I 


Division    D  O  0  2. 
Section     ,  H  6  2 


THE  EPOCHS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

Edited  by  John  Grier  Hibben,  Princeton  University 

The  aim  of  the  series  on  The  Epochs  of  Philosophy  is  to 
present  the  significant  features  of  philosophical  thought  in  the 
chief  periods  of  its  development.  There  is  no  attempt  to  give 
a  complete  account  in  every  case  of  the  men  or  their  works 
which  these  various  periods  have  produced ;  but  rather  to  esti- 
mate and  interpret  the  characteristic  contributions  which  each 
age  may  have  made  to  the  permanent  store  of  philosophical 
knowledge.  Such  a  process  of  interpretation,  therefore,  must 
be  necessarily  selective.  And  in  the  light  of  the  specific  pur- 
poses of  this  series  the  principle  of  selection  suggests  itself, 
namely,  to  emphasise  especially  those  doctrines  which  have 
appeared  as  effective  factors  in  the  evolution  of  philosophical 
thought  as  a  whole.  Moreover,  these  various  periods  are  inti- 
mately connected;  the  history  is  a  continuous  one.  While 
there  are  several  distinct  epochs  of  philosophy,  there  is  but 
one  movement  of  philosophical  thought,  and  it  is  hoped  that 
the  present  series  will  serve,  in  some  slight  measure  at  least,  to 
deepen  the  impression  of  that  fundamental  unity  which  char- 
acterises the  progress  of  philosophy  through  the  many  phases 
of  its  development. 

VOLUMES  AND  AUTHORS 

THE  BEGINNINGS   OF  GREEK   PHILOSOPHY 

By  F.  J.  E.  WooDBRiDGE,  Professor  in  Columbia  University. 

THE  PLATONIC  PHILOSOPHY 

By  A.  E.  Taylor,  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy,  St.  Andrew's 
University. 

THE  ARISTOTELIAN   PHILOSOPHY 

By  Paul  Shorey,  Professor  of  Greek,  University  of  Chicago.       a 


THE  EPOCHS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

STOIC  AND   EPICUREAN 

By   R.   D.   Hicks,   Fellow    and    late    Lecturer    Trinity  College, 
Cambridge.     (Now  ready.) 

NEO-PLATONISM  AND   CHRISTIANITY 

By  F.  W.  BussELL,  Vice-Principal  of  Brasenose  College,  Oxford. 

THE  MEDIEVAL  PHILOSOPHY 
(Author  to  be  announced  later.) 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE   RENAISSANCE 

By  Charles  M.  Bakewell,  Professor  of  Philosophy,  Yale  Uni- 
versity. 

THE  RISE  OF  THE  HISTORICAL  METHOD  IN  PHILOSOPHY 
By  J.  E.  Creighton,  Professor  of  Logic  and  Metaphysics,  Cornell 
University. 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RATIONALISM 

By  Frank  Thilly,  Professor  of  Ethics,  Cornell  University. 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

By   John    Grier    Hibben,  Professor  of  Logic,  Princeton   Uni- 
versity.    (Now  ready.) 

THE  CRITICAL  PHILOSOPHY 

By  JosiAH  RoYCE,  Professor  of  the  History  of  Philosophy,  Harvard 
University. 

THE    IDEALISTIC    MOVEMENT    OF    THOUGHT    IN    THE 

NINETEENTH   CENTURY 

By  J.  B.  Baillie,  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy,  Aberdeen  Uni- 
versity. 

An  additional  volume  (title  to  be  announced  later)  is  ex- 
pected from  A.  S.  Pringle-Pattison,  Professor  of  Logic  and 
Metaphysics  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 


THE   PHILOSOPHY 
OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 


*AXX',  «S  (pl\e,  fjv  S'  iyd,  jiirpov  rdv  toioiJtwv  iiraKeivov  Kal 
OTioOv  Tov  6vTos  ov  ndpv  ixerplus  yiyverar  dreXis  ydp  oidiv 
ovdevbs  nirpov. — PLATO,  Republic,  VI,  504,  C. 


EPOCHS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


0f¥l^^ 


MAR  1. 7  1910 


A. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY^%i£W^ 
OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 


BY 


>/ 


JOHN   GRIER   HIBBEN,  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 

STUART   PROFESSOR  OF   LOGIC,   PRINCETON   UNIVERSITY 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1910 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

Published  February,  igzo 


TO 
MY  DAUGHTER 


PREFACE 

The  age  of  the  Enlightenment  has  a  peculiar  in- 
terest and  value  for  the  student  of  the  history  of 
philosophy.  The  philosophical  output  of  this  pe- 
riod is  unusually  rich  and  significant,  embracing  as 
it  does  the  classical  writings  of  Locke,  Berkeley, 
Hume,  Leibniz,  Rousseau  and  Kant,  and  therefore 
may  well  be  studied  for  the  material  which  these 
separate  contributions  severally  contain.  But,  more 
than  this,  the  eighteenth-century  philosophy  is  a 
period  in  which  a  great  movement  of  thought  is  ex- 
hibited, and  that,  too,  on  a  large  and  conspicuous 
stage,  England,  France,  Germany  form  its  settings. 
It  begins  with  Locke  and  is  completed  in  Kant. 
And  whatever  significance  Kant  may  possess  for  the 
philosophical  world  to-day  attaches  also  to  this 
period,  for  this  period  served  to  open  the  way  for 
the  critical  philosophy  of  the  great  master  which  is 
its  appropriate  culmination. 

Moreover,  the  practical  influences  of  the  philosoph- 
ical discussions  of  this  age  are  of  such  extent  and 
importance  as  to  engage  the  attention  of  the  ordi- 
nary reader  of  history,  as  well  as  that  of  the  more 
special  worker  in  the  field  of  philosophy.  In  Eng- 
land religious  controversy,  political  theory,  and 
moral  standards  were  profoundly  affected  by  the 
philosophical  tendencies  of  the  day;  in  France  the 
social  and  political  doctrines  became  involved  with 
the  philosophical,  and  they  were  not  without  a 
dominating  influence  upon  the  popular  mind,  not 


viii  PREFACE 

only  throughout  the  period  preceding  the  Frencn 
Revolution,  but  also  during  the  years  of  its  progress 
as  well;  in  Germany  the  same  tendencies  manifested 
themselves  in  theological  controversy  on  the  one 
hand,  and  in  the  quickening  of  poetical  insight  and 
interpretation  on  the  other,  so  that  poets  became 
philosophers,  and  philosophers  became  poets.  The 
movement  of  philosophical  thought  in  this  age,  more- 
over, is  typical  of  great  movements  of  thought  gen- 
erally, and  in  this  aspect  is  both  illuminating  and 
suggestive  as  a  representative  historical  study.  The 
tendencies  which  here  prevail,  the  characteristic  dif- 
ferences in  point  of  view,  as  well  as  the  complement- 
ary relation  of  opposed  opinions,  are  all  repeated 
again  and  again  in  the  various  political,  social,  reli- 
gious, moral,  and  philosophical  controversies  which 
emerge  through  every  significant  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  thought. 

I  wish  to  take  this  opportunity  of  expressing  my 
indebtedness  to  my  friend  and  colleague.  Professor 
Norman  Smith,  whose  suggestions  and  criticism 
have  proved  invaluable  to  me  in  the  preparation  of 
this  book. 

J.  G.  H. 

Princeton,  January  30,  1910. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

The  Age  of  the  Enlightenment      ...        3 

The  period  from  Locke's  Essay  to  Kant's  Critique,  3;  char- 
acteristic features  of  the  eighteenth-century  philosophy, 
3;  the  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding,  6;  the 
three  stages  of  the  movement  of  thought  in  this  century, 
7;  ideahsm  of  Berkeley,  9;  materialistic  movement  in 
England  and  France,  10;  scepticism  of  Hume,  11;  the 
function  of  scepticism  in  the  development  of  thought,  12; 
the  rationalism  of  Leibniz,  13;  Kant's  w^ork  of  reconstruc- 
tion, 15;  influence  of  Rousseau,  16;  ofl&ces  of  the  practi- 
cal reason,  16;  practical  influences  of  the  Enlightenment, 
18;  deism,  19;  utilitarianism,  19;  individualism  in 
politics,  20;  Kant's  contribution  to  the  practical  problems 
of  this  age,  21;  references,  24. 

CHAPTER  H 
Locke's  Inner  and  Outer  World    ...      25 

Locke's  love  of  truth,  25;  origin  of  the  Essay,  26;  an  appeal 
for  intellectual  freedom,  27;  his  method,  psychological, 
27;  Locke's  inner  world,  sensation  and  reflection,  29; 
mind,  regarded  as  passive  in  receiving  the  sensory  mate- 
rials of  know^ledge,  31;  its  later  activity,  mechanical,  34; 
the  mind's  organising  function,  38;  Leibniz's  criticism  of 
Locke,  38;  intellectualism  of  Locke,  39;  canon  of  philo- 
sophical criticism,  40;  the  idea  of  self ,  42 ;  Locke's  outer 
world,  44;  reality  of  knowledge,  44;  primary  and  sec- 
ondary qualities  of  matter,  46;  nature  of  substance,  48; 
idea  of  God,  51;  concept  of  causation,  53;  influence  of 
Locke,  55;  references,  56. 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER    III 

Berkeley's  Idealism 57 

Relation  to  Locke,  57;  no  material  substance,  59;  no  ab- 
stract ideas,  60;  no  distinction  between  primary  and  sec- 
ondary qualities  of  matter,  60;  theory  of  vision,  61; 
Berkeley's  idealism  explained,  62;  idea  of  God,  66;  doc- 
trine of  spiritual  substance,  68;  causation,  69;  universal 
language  of  nature,  71;  criticism  of  Berkeley,  72;  notion 
and  idea,  73;  idealism  of  the  Siris,  75;  anticipations 
of  Kant,  80;  Berkeley  in  America,  81;  references,  84. 

CHAPTER  IV 
Hume's  Scepticism 85 

Relation  to  Locke  and  Berkeley,  85 ;  his  argument  a  reducHo 
ad  absurdum  of  Locke's  position,  87;  Huxley  on  Hume, 
87;  impressions  and  ideas,  88;  Hume's  fundamental 
canon  of  criticism,  89;  doctrine  of  causation,  90;  doc- 
trine of  substance,  93;  idea  of  self,  95 ;  criticism  of  Hume, 
97;  abstract  ideas,  99;  function  of  imagination  in 
thought,  100;  Hume,  sceptical  of  his  own  scepticism,  102; 
relation  to  Kant,  104;  effect  upon  Thomas  Reid,  108;  ref- 
erences, no. 

CHAPTER  V 

The  Materialistic  Movement  in  England 

AND  France in 

Relation  to  Locke,  in;  David  Hartley,  112;  Joseph 
Priestley,  116;  Voltaire's  Lettres  sur  les  Anglais,  119; 
Condillac,  120;  Helvetius,  122;  Lamettrie,  123;  Diderot, 
124;  Holbach,  131;  Cabanis,  134. 

CHAPTER  VI 

Rousseau's  Philosophy  of  Feeling  .     .     .     136 

Relation  to  the  Encyclopcedists,  136;  his  early  materialism, 
136;  his  protest  on  behalf  of  feeling,  138;  Profession  of 
faith  of  the  Savoyard  Vicar,  141;  man  regarded  as  a 
machine,  144;  Rousseau's  Discourses,  145;  Conlrat 
Social,  148;  reason  and  feeling,  150;  individualism,  152; 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

Confessions,  153;  feeling  and  conduct,  154;  Rousseau's 
pragmatism,  157;  influence  upon  Kant,  158;  refer- 
ences, 160. 

CHAPTER  VII 
The  Philosophy  of  Leibniz 161 

Relation  to  Locke,  161;  i\itNouveaux  Essais,  162;  Leib- 
niz's rationalism,  163;  the  Characteristica  Universalis, 
164;  symbolic  logic,  165;  doctrine  of  substance,  166; 
substance  as  entelechy,  169;  doctrine  of  the  monads,  170; 
theidentity  of  indiscernibles,  171;  appetition,  172;  repre- 
sentative function  of  the  monads,  173;  perception,  174; 
theory  of  causation,  176;  relation  of  monads  to  God,  177; 
pre-established  harmony,  178;  relation  of  mind  to  body, 
181;  parallelism,  183;  efficient  and  final  causes,  183; 
world  of  nature  and  world  of  divine  purpose,  184;  Leib- 
niz's theory  of  knowledge,  185;  Kant's  task,  188;  sub- 
stance as  a  centre  of  force,  188;  doctrine  of  evolution,  190; 
summary,  193;  references,  193. 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The   Conflict  of  Typical   Philosophical 

Influences  in  Germany 194 

Kant's  characterisation  of  the  Aufkldrung,  194;  influence  of 
LeibfiizandWolfif,  194;  influenceof  Locke,  195;  pietism, 
195;  the  poet-philosophers,  196;  Wolff's  philosophy  and 
influence,  197;  Lessing  and  his  philosophy,  200;  Woljen- 
huttler  Fragmente,  203;  Herder,  206;  influence  of  Spi- 
noza, 208;  Thomasius,  210;  popular  philosophers,  210; 
Mendelssohn,  211;  Nicolai,  212;  empirical  philosophy  of 
Tetens,  212;  summary,  213;  references,  214. 

CHAPTER  IX 
The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  .     .     .     215 

Kant's  relation  to  the  Aujklarung,  215;  the  mediating  ten- 
dency of  his  mind,  216;  periods  in  his  philosophical  think- 
ing, 217;   the  Dissertation,  219;   letter  to  Marcus  Herz, 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

220;  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  a  logic  of  limits,  222; 
transcendental  method,  223;  meaning  of  a  priori,  224; 
S5Tithetic  and  analytic  judgments,  225;  synthetic  judg- 
ments a  priori,  226;  metaphysic  of  induction,  227;  na- 
ture of  causation,  228;  nature  of  thought,  229;  divisions 
of  the  Critique,  231;  forms  of  sensibility,  233;  categories 
of  the  understanding,  235;  phenomena  and  noumena, 
238;  Ideas  of  the  reason,  240;  the  antinomies,  244; 
Kritik  der  praktischen  Vernunjt,  247;  Kritik  der  Ur- 
theilskrajt,  249;  summary,  251;  references,  252. 

CHAPTER  X 

The    Practical    Influences   of   Enlight- 
enment     253 

Three  lines  of  influence,  253;  Locke's  ethical  position, 
254;  Hume's  treatment  of  Locke's  premises,  259; 
Hume's  idea  of  sympathy,  261;  Adam  Smith,  262; 
David  Hartley  and  associationism,  264;  Mandeville,  267; 
Shaftesbury,  268;  philosophy  of  deism,  272;  Locke's 
influence,  273;  the  English  deists,  275;  Hume  on  relig- 
ion, 276;  deism  in  France  and  Germany,  279;  political 
tendencies,  280;  Locke's  Treatises  of  Government,  280; 
influence  in  England  and  France,  281;  Rousseau's  Con- 
trat  Social,  282;  Kant's  contribution  to  the  ethical  in- 
fluences of  this  age,  284;  to  the  religious,  286;  to  the 
political,  290;   references,  292. 

List  of  Literary  Works  of  this  Period     293 
Index 307 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE 
ENLIGHTENMENT 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE 
ENLIGHTENMENT 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

The  significant  movement  of  thought  known  as  the 
Enlightenment^  or  Aufkldrung^  falls  in  the  main  with- 
in the  period  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  is  sel- 
dom, however,  that  the  turn  of  a  century  happens  to 
coincide  exactly  with  the  beginning  or  the  end  of  a 
great  epoch,  either  political,  religious  or  philosophi- 
cal. The  period  in  philosophy  which  is  referred  to 
in  a  general  way  as  the  eighteenth  century  begins  vir- 
tually in  the  year  1690  with  the  pubHcation  of  Locke's 
famous  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding, 
and  is  brought  to  its  close  in  the  year  1781  with  the 
appearance  of  Kant's  Critique  of  Pure  Reason.  They 
are  the  natural  boundaries  of  this  "philosophical 
century." 

It  was  an  age  characterised  by  a  restless  spirit  of 
inquiry — a  century  of  challenge.  A  new  life  was 
awake  and  stirred  in  the  minds  of  men.  Traditions 
which  had  been  long  venerated  became  the  objects 
of  searching  investigation  and  criticism.  The  au- 
thority of  the  church,  of  the  state  and  of  the  school 
was  no  longer  regarded  as  the  court  of  last  appeal. 
The  old  beliefs  which  failed  to  justify  themselves 

3 


4  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

at  the  bar  of  reason  were  discarded.  The  founda- 
tions of  time-honoured  systems  seemed  shifting  and 
uncertain.  There  was  an  insistent  demand  for  the 
free  play  of  the  individual  judgment.  There  was, 
also,  a  constant  reference  to  the  light  of  reason,  the 
inner  illumination  shining  bright  and  clear  in  con- 
trast to  the  shadows  of  mysticism,  or  to  the  false  and 
flickering  light  of  dogmatism.  Hence  the  name  of 
the  age  of  illumination,  or  enlightenment, — the  name, 
also,  of  the  age  of  reason. 

In  this  period  there  was  more  particularly  a  spirit 
of  protest  against  metaphysical  speculation,  that  is, 
against   all  attempts  to   explain  the  phenomena  of 
human  existence  in   any   manner  which  transcends 
the  ordinary  processes  of  reason,  and  consequently 
possesses  no  firm  foundation  of  reality.     And  reality, 
in  turn,  was  conceived  as  that  which  is  akin  to  nature 
and  to  the  general  course  of  natural  phenomena  as 
perceived  through  the  channels  of  the  various  senses. 
There  was  an  attempt  to  reduce  the  problems  of 
thought  to  the  basis  of  extreme  simplicity,  and  to 
make  a  common-sense  view  of  things  everywhere 
prevail. 
I       The  spirit  of  the  age  might  find  characteristic  ex- 
I  pression  in  some  such  words  as  these:     Let  us  not 
r  concern  ourselves  with  idle  speculation  in  reference 
to  things  which  the  mind  of  man  can  never  compass 
I      and  understand.     Why  busy  ourselves  concerning  the 
•>Jf'     deeper  significance  and  purpose  of  nature  which  our 
thought  is  utterly  incapable  of  penetrating .?     While 
we  may  observe  and  classify  the  phenomena  of  nature, 
and  formulate  the  laws  of  their  behaviour,  we  can 
never  hope  to  comprehend  their  inner  meaning,  for- 
ever veiled  and  obscure.     Nature,  which  seems  so 
near — of  which,  indeed,  we  ourselves  are  a  part — 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT        5 

nevertheless  lies  far  beyond  our  ken.  And  the  being 
and  nature  of  God,  who  must  be  regarded  as  dwelling 
in  a  sphere  far  out  and  beyond  the  outermost  bounds 
of  nature,  must  remain  still  more  incomprehensible. 
If  we  cannot  understand  the  inscrutable  mysteries 
of  the  world  which  we  have  seen,  much  less  the 
mystery  of  God  whom  we  have  not  seen.  From  the 
contemplation,  therefore,  of  the  world  and  of  God, 
we  must  turn  our  eyes  to  the  more  rewarding  study 
of  the  inner  self.  Let  every  man  examine  the  phe- 
nomena of  life  as  they  unfold  themselves  within  this 
inner  world  of  his  own  consciousness.  Here  at  least 
is  the  light  in  which  he  can  see  light.  To  every  one 
who  thus  mines  the  treasures  of  his  own  nature  there 
must  come  the  quiet  satisfaction  of  being  able  to  in- 
sist, I  know  myself.  Such  is  the  spirit  of  this  age. 
It  is  reflected  in  Pope's  line, 

"  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man." 

In  this  search  after  knowledge,  while  inquiry  was 
introspective,  it  was  not  by  any  means  reflective.  It 
lacked  penetration,  and  while  moving  freely  and 
thoroughly  in  a  careful  surface  investigation,  it  was 
never  able  to  fathom  and  explore  the  lower  depths 
of  thought. 

It  was  a  restricted  area  of  inquiry,  therefore,  which 
the  philosophy  of  the  Enlightenment  set  for  itself. 
If  in  this  region,  it  was  urged,  there  can  be  found  no 
evidence  for  the  existence  of  God,  then  faith  must  not 
hold  what  reason  cannot  prove;  if  there  are  no  im- 
mutable principles  of  morality  clearly  attested,  then 
man  must  be  content  with  a  working  ethic  of  prudence 
and  expediency;  if  there  are  no  intimations  of  im- 
mortality, one  can  at  least  live  in  the  fulness  of  the 
present;   if  the  foundations  of  the  state  are  shaken, 


6  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

then  let  the  state  itself  fall  with  them;  but  in  spite 
of  what  may  be  lost  or  of  what  may  be  saved,  let  no 
one's  convictions  transcend  the  actual  and  indisputa- 
ble facts  upon  which  they  are  observed  to  rest.  Let 
man  once  for  all  penetrate  "the  mist  and  veil  of 
words,"  and  get  at  the  truth  of  things.  If  there  is 
no  appeal  to  "the  god  of  things  as  they  are,"  there 
is,  at  least,  the  appeal  direct  to  things  as  they  are 
themselves. 

With  all  of  its  obvious  limitations  and  defects, 
this  method  of  inquiry  was  nevertheless  frank,  open- 
minded  and  ingenuous.  The  right  of  individual  opin- 
ion was  respected;  a  spirit  of  tolerance  prevailed; 
and  philosophy  was  afforded  a  free  forum. 

The  key-note  of  the  age  was  set  by  John  Locke 
scholar  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  trained  in  the 
diplomatic  service,  widely  travelled,  secretary  of  the 
first  Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  a  profound  student  of 
the  theory  of  government,  champion  of  toleration, 
a  man  of  affairs,  and  withal  a  philosopher,  whose 
habit  of  mind  fitted  him  in  an  eminent  degree 
to  deal  with  speculative  problems  from  a  practical 
point  of  view.  In  his  Essay  Concerning  Human 
Understandingy  Locke  insists  that  all  knowledge 
comes  to  us  from  two  sources  only — from  sensation 
and  reflection.  Therefore  we  ought  scrupulously  to 
eliminate  from  our  philosophy  everything  which  it  is 
not  possible  to  trace  to  this  elemental  origin.  Aught 
else  of  speculation,  of  sentiment  or  of  opinion  rests 
upon  a  basis  of  fancy  and  not  of  fact.  All  inquiry, 
consequently,  must  be  limited  to  the  problems  which 
arise  in  this  field.  Beyond  these  lies  not  only  the 
undiscovered  country,  but  the  undiscoverable  as  well. 

The  world  of  knowledge  from  this  point  of  view 
shows  a  variety  of  manifold  forms,  but  is  of  one  and 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT        7 

the  same  substance  throughout,  namely,  that  which 
is  constantly  supplied  by  the  ceaseless  activity  of  the 
senses.  Thus  we  find  the  problem  of  knowledge  re- 
duced to  its  lowest  terms.  By  restricting  the  area  of 
knowledge,  the  area  of  difficulty  is  likewise  dimin- 
ished; for  many  perplexing  problems  are  thus  elimi- 
nated, and  a  common-sense  method  of  interpreting 
actually  observed  facts  of  experience  commends  itself 
as  involving  only  clear  ideas  which  all  mankind 
can  understand  and  appreciate.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
characteristic  feature  of  this  age,  the  demand  that  all 
ideas  should  be  clear  and  self-illuminating.  It  was  a 
part  of  the  heritage  which  had  come  to  that  generation 
from  Descartes,  who  had  emphatically  insisted  that 
clear  and  distinct  ideas  are  to  be  regarded  as  the 
sole  test  of  truth.  Locke  placed  before  his  own  mind 
the  same  standard,  and  sought  to  realise  it  by  a  sim- 
plification of  the  sources  of  knowledge.  It  is  here 
that  the  development  of  thought  in  the  age  of  the 
Enlightenment  had  its  beginning. 

The  history  of  this  development  illustrates  certain 
fundamental  principles  concerning  the  progress  of 
thought  which  are  not  only  of  interest  in  themselves, 
but  will  serve  also  to  stimulate  the  critical  insight  and 
appreciation  of  any  one  who  undertakes  the  serious 
study  of  this  period  of  philosophy.  We  find  in  the 
eighteenth  century  a  great  movement  of  thought, 
which  furnishes  us  a  basis  for  an  historical  study  of 
the  theory  of  knowledge.  But  this  is  not  all.  It  may 
be  regarded  also  as  the  type  of  great  thought  move- 
ments in  general.  It  has  in  this  respect  peculiarly  a 
representative  value ;  for  if  we  interpret  aright  the  con- 
trolling forces  which  underlie  this  development,  and 
the  various  phases  of  their  manifestation,  there  will  be 
disclosed,  in  rough  outline  at  least,  the  programme 


8  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

which  every  progressive  movement  of  thought  tends 
to  follow.  There  are  three  stages  of  such  a  develop- 
ment. The  first  is  that  in  which  some  significant  idea 
finds  expression,  and,  because  not  yet  fully  developed, 
it  is  necessarily  partial,  one-sided  or  extreme.  The 
second  stage  is  that  of  controversy.  The  idea  must 
be  subjected  to  a  running  fire  of  criticism.  Whatever 
it  may  conceal  as  contradictory,  incoherent  or  ab- 
surd, will  thus  be  brought  to  light.  The  third  stage 
is  always  a  period  of  reconstruction,  wherein  contra- 
dictions are  resolved,  limitations  are  removed,  and 
whatever  may  have  been  inadequate  is  completed  by 
supplying  the  complementary  elements  which  were 
wanting  in  the  original  doctrine  or  theory.  This 
Hegelian  procedure  is  illustrated  in  the  progress  of 
philosophical  thought  which  the  eighteenth  century 
produced.  And  such  a  method  of  thought  develop- 
ment is  by  no  means  a  fanciful  conceit  of  Hegel's. 
It  is  a  process  which  is  familiar  to  every  one  who,  in 
his  own  thinking,  has  become  conscious  of  the  ex-  ' 
panding  and  transforming  stages  through  which  his 
various  opinions  have  passed,  from  the  initial  asser- 
tion, through  the  testing  of  criticism  and  controversy, 
until  the  final  reconstruction  and  restatement  of  the 
original  belief  is  reached. 

At  the  beginning  of  such  a  development  as  that 
which  the  eighteenth  century  exhibits,  the  content  of 
philosophical  thought  is  reduced  to  a  minimum.  Its 
simplicity,  however,  is  that  of  a  germ  possessing  in  a 
high  degree  the  potential  of  an  exceedingly  complex 
growth.  Any  idea  which  starts  a  great  movement  of 
thought  must  be  subjected  to  the  practical  test  of  its 
power  to  adapt  itself  to  all  possible  varieties  of  men- 
tal environment.  It  must  be  received  into  many  and 
various  types  of  minds;  it  must  adjust  itself  to  many 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT        9 

different  temperaments,  and  be  regarded  from  many 
points  of  view.  It  is  only  in  this  manner  that  its  full 
significance  can  be  revealed,  and  its  true  worth  ade- 
quately appreciated.  In  this  period  of  trying  out, 
whatever  is  potential  in  the  initial  idea  will  be  ren- 
dered actual;  its  logical  implications  will  be  made 
explicit,  and  their  necessary  consequences  set  forth 
in  a  rigorous  and  complete  manner;  whatever  is 
partial  will  be  revealed,  and  all  latent  error  will  be 
eliminated. 

This  is  exactly  what  occurred  in  reference  to 
Locke's  fundamental  contention  that  we  know  only 
that  which  comes  through  the  avenues  of  the  senses, 
and  what  may  follow  from  reflection  upon  the  ma- 
terial which  is  thus  furnished.  An  exceedingly  sim- 
ple statement  of  the  sources  of  knowledge.  But  there 
is  no  statement,  however  simple,  which  is  not  beset 
with  difficulties  and  which  may  not  become  the  sub- 
ject of  radical  differences  of  opinion,  and  possibly 
of  heated  controversy.  This  simple  statement  of  the 
Lockian  theory  of  knowledge  experienced  two  dia- 
metrically opposite  phases  of  development,  which  in 
itself  indicates  its  indefiniteness  and  incompleteness. 
One  of  these  phases  was  essentially  idealistic  and  the 
other  materialistic,  and  each  in  turn  grounded  in  the 
original  premisses  of  Locke  concerning  the  sources  of 
knowledge. 

The  idealistic  interpretation  is  represented  by 
Bishop  Berkeley.  Starting  from  Locke's  stand-point 
that  the"elemental  springs  of  knowledge  are  to  be 
traced  to  the  sensations,  Berkeley  insists  that  inas- 
much as  every  sensation  is  an  experience  occurring 
in  the  individual  consciousness,  it  must  be  composed, 
therefore,  at  the  last  analysis,  of  that  which  is  mental 
and  not  physical.     Whatever  appears  in  conscious- 


10  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

ness  must  partake  of  the  character  of  the  very  element 
in  which  it  appears.  As  to  the  physical  object  of 
sensation  which  is  supposed  to  be  outside  of  us  and  is 
regarded  crudely  as  its  cause,  we  know  absolutely 
nothing.  We  know  only  the  passing  phenomena  of 
consciousness  whose  parts  are  fashioned  of  mental 
elements  or  thought  entities.  To  say,  as  Locke  does, 
that  we  know  only  sensations  originally,  means, 
therefore,  according  to  Berkeley's  interpretation,  that 
we  know  merely  the  objects  of  knowledge  as  they  ap- 
pear to  us  in  consciousness,  wrought  of  the  elements 
of  the  mind  only.  Ideas,  therefore,  are  the  stuff  out 
of  which  our  experience  is  formed.  While  Locke  had 
said  that  there  was  some  external  object  correspond- 
ing to  every  perception,  although  its  true  nature  could 
never  be  known  to  the  observing  mind,  Berkeley  in- 
sists that  there  is  no  external  object  to  know  other 
than  the  idea  in  the  mind.  Our  ideas  which  come  to 
us  through  sense  perception  do  not  represent  a  world 
lying  beyond  them;  they  are  that  world  itself. 

At  the  same  time  and,  strangely  enough,  under  the 
same  influence,  there  developed  a  sensationalistic  phil- 
osophy, which  in  its  extreme  form  drifted  inevitably 
into  materialism.  It  flourished  not  only  on  British  soil, 
but  survived  its  transplanting  into  France,  and  with 
the  changed  environment  gained  in  vigour  and  ex- 
tent. In  England  this  phase  of  the  movement  is 
represented  by  Hartley,  Priestley,  Erasmus  Darwin 
and  others;  in  France  by  that  brilHant  coterie  of 
writers  who  gave  to  the  world  the  French  Encyclo- 
paedia and  the  revolutionary  philosophy.  Of  this 
group  the  most  pronounced  in  the  creed  of  material- 
ism were  Diderot,  Helvetius  and  Holbach. 

Here  surely  is  an  anomaly.  How  can  the  same 
premisses  yield  so  widely  different  conclusions  .?    How 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT      11 

can  Locke's  empirical  beginnings  develop  on  the  one 
hand  into  Berkeley's  idealism,  and  on  the  other  into 
Holbach's  materialistic  and  atheistic  Le  Systeme  de  la 
nature?  The  situation,  however,  is  not  an  impos- 
sible one.  Upon  a  closer  consideration,  it  will  be 
seen  to  be  both  logical  and  natural.  For  we  may  lay 
it  down  as  a  general  principle  characteristic  of  every 
great  movement  of  thought  that,  starting  from  a 
statement  which  is  merely  a  partial  expression  of  the 
complete  truth,  it  must  necessarily  give  rise  to  op- 
posed results  according  to  radical  differences  in  the 
point  of  view  and  the  method  of  interpretation.  More- 
over, every  movement  of  thought  must  find  its  be-'^ 
ginnings  in  some  partial  and  indefinite  expression  of 
truth;  for  if  it  should  start  with  a  complete  statement 
of  truth,  it  would  then  be  absurd  to  expect  any  pos- 
sible development  of  it. 

This,  therefore,  may  be  regarded  as  the  first  char- 
acteristic of  every  significant  movement  of  thought, 
an  initial  doctrine,  regarded  from  a  single  and  cir- 
cumscribed point  of  view,  developing  diametrically 
opposed  conclusions.  The  simplicity  of  the  original 
statement  thus  at  once  breaks  up  in  the  process 
of  interpretation  and  elaboration  into  a  complexity 
of  contradictory  opinions,  and  these  contradictions 
clearly  prove  the  original  incompleteness. 

The  inadequacy  of  the  beginnings  of  thought  may 
also  be  illustrated  more  directly  and  particularly  by 
showing  that  the  conclusions  which  logically  follow 
from  them  are  unsatisfactory  as  a  final  explanation, 
and  that  the  seemingly  firm  foundations  upon  which 
they  rest  are  shifting  and  uncertain.  In  reference  to 
the  philosophical  position  of  Locke,  we  find  the  task 
of  exposing  its  fundamental  weakness  falling  to  the 
lot  of  David  Hume.     The  philosophy  of  Hume  is  a 


12  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

natural  reaction  from  the  extreme  position  of  Berke- 
ley, and  at  the  same  time  its  logical  outcome.  Because 
of  the  unsatisfactory  results  which  Hume  reaches 
in  the  logical  unfolding  of  Locke's  theory  of  knowl- 
edge, his  attitude  becomes  one  of  radical  scepticism. 
If  Berkeley's  position  is  tenable  that  Locke's  doctrine 
leaves  us  only  ideas  as  the  material  of  our  knowl- 
edge, then,  Hume  insists,  we  may,  it  is  true,  construct 
these  elemental  ideas  into  a  world  in  which  we  can 
live  and  move  and  have  our  being;  but  we  have 
no  assurance  whatsoever  that  the  component  ele- 
ments are  held  together  by  any  bonds  of  necessary 
connection,  or  that  they  possess  any  inherent  sub- 
stantiality. We  think  that  there  are  real  substances, 
individually  separate  and  distinct,  and  we  think 
there  is  some  underlying  relation  of  cause  and  effect 
which  is  the  cohesive  tie  uniting  them  all  into  a  sys- 
tem of  interdependent  parts.  But  such  a  way  of 
looking  at  things  is  only  a  convenient  mental  habit 
which  we  take  for  granted  as  a  matter  of  course,  be- 
cause we  have  never  paused  seriously  to  question  it. 
We  must  remember  that  our  thinking  it  true  does  not 
make  it  true,  and  that  the  most  obvious  assumption 
which  the  mind  may  entertain  does  not  of  itself 
guarantee  its  trustworthiness.  Berkeley  was  correct 
in  denying  the  existence  of  matter,  Hume  would  say, 
but  he  should  have  gone  further  and  have  denied  also 
the  reality  of  ideas  themselves  as  regards  their  sub- 
stantial essence,  and  their  necessary  connection  in  any 
system  of  knowledge. 

This  negative  criticism,  which  in  itself  marks  no 
real  progress  of  thought,  is  nevertheless  an  exceedingly 
important  factor  in  any  such  progress.  It  shows  the 
inadequacy  of  half  truths,  and  sweeps  the  board  of 
all  inconsistencies  and  confusions  of  thought.  If  noth- 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT       13 

ing  remains,  that  very  fact  of  itself  is  of  advantage  in 
inciting  to  renev^^ed  effort  along  lines  which  will  swing 
clear  of  initial  misconceptions,  unwarrantable  as- 
sumptions and  partial  premises.  As  Descartes  has 
very  wisely  said :  "  Those  who  travel  very  slowly 
may  yet  make  far  greater  progress,  provided  they 
keep  always  to  the  straight  road,  than  those  who, 
however  well  they  run,  forsake  it."  ^ 

Thus,  if  an  initial  idea  leads  through  the  various 
phases  of  its  logical  unfolding  to  an  untenable  posi- 
tion, then  by  this  process  of  a  reductio  ad  absurduniy 
the  original  idea  itself  must  be  challenged  at  its 
source.  This  is  Hume's  peculiar  contribution — that  |  \7 
of  enlightening  the  thought  of  the  eighteenth  centuty  ^ 
as  to  the  inadequacy  of  Locke's  foundations  of  knowl- 
edge as  interpreted  by  Berkeley.  Inasmuch,  there-j 
fore,  as  Locke's  position,  that  we  know  only  sensa- 
tions as  the  beginning  of  all  knowledge,  seems  to  lead 
on  one  hand  to  an  extreme  idealism,  and  on  the  other 
to  extreme  materialism,  or  else  to  a  point  of  view  of 
radical  scepticism,  we  are  naturally  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  Locke  must  have  overlooked  an  es- 
sential and  significant  factor  in  his  account  of  the 
sources  of  knowledge.  Is  there  any  trace  of  such  a 
factor  in  the  midst  of  the  eighteenth  century  phil- 
osophy ?  There  undoubtedly  is.  For  when  the  in- 
fluence of  Locke's  Essay  began  to  be  felt  in  Germany, 
and  his  empirical  philosophy  had  gained  a  hearing 
and  a  following  as  well,  there  came  into  conflict  with 
it  an  opposite  stream  of  tendency  in  philosophical 
thinking  which  may  be  traced  through  Leibniz  to 
Spinoza  and  Descartes,  and  which  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was  represented  most  conspicuously  in  the 
philosophy  of  Wolff,  namely,  that  of  rationalism. 

•  Discourse  on  Method,  Part  I 


14  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

The  point  of  view  of  rationalism  has  regard  partic- 
ularly to  the  nature  of  reason  itself.  It  insists  that 
there  are  certain  clear  and  distinct  ideas  native  to  the 
very  character  of  thought  which  serve  as  a  body  of 
primary  truths  from  which  it  is  possible  to  develop 
by  logical  procedure  an  entire  system  of  philosophical 
dogma.  Moreover,  such  a  system  is  supposed  to 
sketch,  in  broad  outline  at  least,  the  general  field  of 
knowledge.  During  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century  this  method  of  philosophical  thought  had  de- 
veloped an  extreme  philosophical  position,  and  under 
the  dominance  of  Wolff's  mechanical  and  artificial 
habit  of  mind  had  become  a  system  of  dry-as-dust 
scholastic  formulae.  It  was  a  body  of  knowledge, 
but  lacked  the  breath  of  lifer 

Through  these  opposed  tendencies  of  empiricism 
and  rationalism,  each  forced  by  the  momentum  of 
thought  to  an  extreme  expression,  the  way  was  pre- 
pared for  a  complete  reconstruction  of  philosophical 
doctrine  which  was  achieved  by  the  genius  of  Im- 
manuel  Kant.  His  masterly  insight  discovered  in  the 
empiricism  of  Locke  the  germs  of  rationalism,  and 
in  the  rationalism  of  Liebniz  the  potential  elements  of 
empiricism. 

It  was  Hume  whose  scepticism  first  impressed 
Kant  with  the  unsatisfactory  results  of  the  traditional 
methods  of  philosophical  thinking,  and  opened  before 
him  the  new  way.  The  office  of  a  sceptic  in  philos- 
ophy is  most  perfectly  illustrated  in  the  influence 
which  Hume  exerted  upon  the  mind  of  Kant,  leading 
him  in  the  first  place  to  a  destructive  analysis  of  the 
philosophical  dogma  in  which  he  had  been  schooled, 
and  then  beyond  that  to  the  more  serious  task  of 
constructive  interpretation.  Scepticism  as  an  es- 
sential moment  in  the  philosophy  of  the  Enlighten- 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT      15 

ment  expresses  not  a  final  goal,  but  merely  a  transition 
stage  in  the  progress  of  reflective  thought. 

Kant's  problem  was  that  of  marking  the  precise 
limits  of  empiricism  and  rationalism,  and  of  demon- 
strating thereby  their  complementary  rather  than 
contradictory  nature.  He  examines  the  extreme  po- 
sitions of  empiricism  and  rationalism,  and  then  pro- 
ceeds to  build  into  a  single  system  whatever  elements 
of  truth  these  seemingly  opposed  doctrines  contain. 

This  marks  the  third  stage  of  the  movement  of 
thought,  the  construction  of  a  fully  rounded  body  of 
truth  by  filling  out  the  half  truth  which  marks  its 
initial  expression.  The  antithesis  of  a  rationalistic 
and  an  empirical  philosophy  was  reconciled  in  the 
Kantian  synthesis,  according  to  which  the  material 
of  our  ideas  is  furnished  by  the  senses  in  its  crude 
state,  but  the  form  which  this  material  is  constrained 
to  take  in  consciousness  is  the  labour  of  the  reason. 
As  Kant  succinctly  puts  it,  "ideas  without  any  per- 
ception by  the  senses  are  empty,  but  mere  sensa- 
tions without  ideas  are  blind."'  Upon  the  raw 
material  of  sensation  the  mind  brings  to  bear  its  or- 
ganising and  constructing  activity,  ordering  all 
things  according  to  the  compulsion  of  its  own  na- 
ture. We  are  in  error  when  we  say  that  we  receive 
impressions  through  the  avenues  of  the  senses.  The 
mind  is  never  passive,  but  actively  creative  in  every 
sense  perception,  however  simple  and  elemental  it 
may  appear.  A  merely  receptive  experience,  there- 
fore, may  not  be  regarded  as  the  sole  beginning  of 
knowledge,  for  the  experience  is  nothing  without 
the  thought  which  renders  the  elements  of  experience 
intelligible.  Mere  sensations  in  themselves,  or  any 
combination  which  may  be  made  of  them,  can  never 

*  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,  Adickes  p.  loo. 


16  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

produce  a  body  of  knowledge  any  more  than  crude 
ore  can  fashion  itself  into  a  curiously  chased  jewel. 
The  simple  sensation  as  the  primal  element  of  knowl- 
edge is  a  philosophical  fiction.  The  simplest  pos- 
sible sensation  at  its  first  appearance  in  conscious- 
ness is  already  indefinitely  complex,  shot  through 
and  through  with  the  threads  of  necessary  connec- 
tions and  relations  determined  by  the  very  nature  of 
the  thought  processes  in  whose  medium  it  necessarily 
comes  into  being.  This,  accordingly,  is  Kant's 
peculiar  office,  that  of  uniting  these  two  opposed 
points  of  view,  the  empirical  and  the  rational,  upon 
a  higher  plane,  wherein  the  elements  of  truth  in  each 
may  be  harmoniously  conserved  and  ordered  ac- 
cording to  their  mutual  relations  and  functions. 

Moreover,  Kant  also  insisted  most  emphatically 
that  such  a  position  as  that  of  Locke's  was  too  cir- 
cumscribed, and  therefore  could  not  represent  in  any 
adequate  manner  the  full  wealth  of  our  conscious 
life.  The  tendency  of  the  following  of  Locke  in 
France,  and  in  Germany  as  well,  had  been  to  em- 
phasise unduly  the  function  of  reason  as  they  con- 
ceived it.  It  is  true,  Kant  confesses,  that  by  the 
pure  reason  we  can  come  to  know  only  the  phenom- 
ena of  experience,  the  world  of  appearance;  and  no 
activity  of  the  speculative  reason  is  able  to  transcend 
this  surface  show  of  things,  and  reveal  the  substan- 
tial nature  and  significance  of  things  as  they  are  in 
themselves,  the  world  of  reality.  But  it  must  not  be 
overlooked  that  there  is  also  the  practical  reason,  that 
quality  of  reason  which  feels  and  wills  and  acts, 
yet,  nevertheless,  maintains  its  essential  character 
as  reason.  In  this  view  Kant  was  influenced  to  no 
small  extent  by  the  insistence  of  Rousseau,  who  pro- 
tested most  vehemently  against  the  methods  of  the  age 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT      17 

of  reason,  and  insisted  that  man  must  be  regarded  as 
something  more  than  a  mere  logical  machine.  Under 
the  stimulus  of  Rousseau,  Kant  was  not  slow  to  see 
that  the  world  of  experience  is  not  a  world  of  knowl- 
edge exclusively.  It  is  a  world,  also,  of  values;  a 
world  of  purpose  and  of  achievement.  We  feel  an 
instinctive  need  of  certain  fundamental  concepts 
which  will  make  such  a  world  intelligible,  and  which, 
at  the  same  time,  will  offer  an  adequate  and  worthy 
end  for  human  endeavour.  These  concepts,  or  post- 
ulates, of  the  practical  reason  compose  that  Kantian 
trinity  of  ideas,  namely,  God,  freedom  and  immor- 
tality. 

This  is  the  last  phase  in  the  development  of 
thought  which  proceeded  from  Locke's  sensational 
basis  of  knowledge  as  its  starting-point.  And  in  the 
light  of  this  development,  there  emerge  certain  gen- 
eral conclusions  which  indicate  the  fundamental 
characteristics  of  the  necessities  of  thought.  They 
are  as  follows: 

It  is  impossible  to  solve  a  philosophical  problem 
satisfactorily  by  reducing  the  area  of  difficulty.  We 
may  cut  the  knot,  but  we  fail  to  disentangle  it.  It 
seems,  at  the  first  glance,  to  simplify  philosophical  dif- 
ficulties incalculably,  by  drawing  the  line  so  as  to  ex- 
clude rigorously  all  metaphysical  considerations;  by 
endeavouring  to  beat  out  all  perplexities  in  the 
sphere  of  the  particular  facts  of  experience;  and  by 
a  method  of  common-sense  interpretation  of  such 
facts  for  what  they  are  worth  in  themselves  and 
in  accordance  with  their  obvious  face  value.  While 
such  a  procedure  seems  to  be  eminently  fair,  and  is 
most  attractive,  appealing  as  it  does  to  man's  in- 
stinctive predisposition  to  regard  favourably  any 
method  which  is  simple  and  straightforward,  never- 


18  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

theless  the  post-Lockian  development  of  philosophi- 
cal thought  demonstrates  that  the  simple  phenomena 
of  experience  are  not  self-explanatory.  It  is  better 
to  profess  some  principles  of  metaphysics  rather 
than  to  repudiate  them,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time, 
in  the  course  of  one's  thinking,  unwittingly  to  assume 
them  when  under  the  pressure  of  logical  necessity 
itself.  Nothing  leads  to  such  confusion  and  obscurity 
of  thought  as  the  assumption  of  a  crude  metaphysic, 
the  presence  of  which  in  one's  thinking  is  not  recog- 
nised, and  whose  significance,  therefore,  as  an  es- 
sential and  determining  factor  is  not  appreciated. 
Reduction  to  simplest  terms  is  not  necessarily  ex- 
planation. This  is  the  lesson  of  the  Aufkldrung  on 
its  speculative  side. 

Every  philosophical  movement,  moreover,  which 
possesses  vitality  should  affect  the  life  of  an  age 
on  its  practical  side  also.  Otherwise  it  cannot  be 
considered  a  great  movement  of  thought.  Philos- 
ophy is  not  of  the  school  merely,  although  many 
seem  to  think  that  it  is;  it  exercises  a  profound  in- 
fluence also  upon  the  thought,  and  therefore  upon  the 
life,  of  a  people,  both  directly  and  indirectly.  This 
is  illustrated  in  a  marked  degree  by  the  philoso- 
phy of  the  Enlightenment.  In  France  and  Germany 
especially,  philosophical  questions  were  discussed 
generally  by  the  people  as  well  as  by  the  scholarly 
class.  There  was  everywhere  during  the  latter  half 
of  the  eighteenth  century  a  popular  demand  for  a 
**  philosophy  for  the  masses."  With  the  principles  of 
Locke  widely  disseminated  and  discussed  in  the  cafe 
and  salon  and  even  among  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
people  generally,  the  empirical  philosophy  exerted  a 
remarkable  influence  upon  the  religious,  the  moral 
and  the  political  life  of  that  age. 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT      19 

In  religion  there  was  an  evident  tendency  tow- 
ard deism,  which,  particularly  in  France,  gradually 
drifted^toward  atheism. 

In  ethics  the  principles  of  utilitarianism  prevailed, 
and  became  the  dominant  moralcreed.  \ 

In  politics  there  was  a  tendency  toward  extreme 
individualism,  accompanied  by  an  urgent  plea  for  a 
return  of  man  to  the  state  of  nature,  and  a  protest 
against  all  existing  institutions,  social  as  well  as  po- 
litical. 

This  practical  development,  it  is  evident,  was  the 
inevitable  outcome  of  Locke's  position.    The  process 
is  a  logical  one,  from  the  premise  that  we  know  only 
that  which  is  given  to  us  by  the  activity  of  the  senses, 
to  the  conclusion  that,  if  God  exists,  it  must  be  in  a 
region  quite  beyond  the  world  as  we  know  it  through 
experience.    For  God  surely  cannot  be  discovered  in 
the  sensory  sources  of  knowledge,  and  therefore,  if  He    ,  1 
exists  at  all,  it  must  be  in  a  sphere  transcending  a    \  | 
world  which  is  composed  wholly  of  original  elements 
given  in  sensation.    This  is  deism,  and  the  way  is  not       , 
far  from  deism  to  atheism,  and  many  there  were  in       ' 
that  age  who  found  it.    In  France  the  logical  outcome  ..  q     , 
of  the  deistical  trend  of  thought  was   the  endeav-  'i 
our  to  substitute  for  the  worship  of  a  God,  a  religion 
of  nature  and  a  worship  of  reason. 

The  utilitarian  basis  of  ethics  also  is  related  to  the 
position  of  Locke;  for  starting  with  sensations  as  the 
sole  source  of  knowledge,  one  comes  instinctively  to 
value  sensations  according  to  the  pleasure  or  the 
pain  which  may  accompany  them.  Consequently  the 
pleasure  or  pain  accompaniments  of  our  sensations 
will  be  regarded  naturally  as  the  standards  of  con- 
duct, and  this  is  essentially  the  psychological  ground 
of  the  ethic  of  utihtarianism.     It  is  the  practical 


20  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

working  out  in  conduct  of  Locke's  theory  of  knowl- 
edge. 

As  regards  the  political  phase  of  the  philosophy  of 
the  Enlightenment,  we  find  that  the  emphasis  which 
that  age  placed  upon  the  individual  as  the  supreme 
tribunal  of  last  appeal,  turned  the  attention  of  all 
minds  to  the  rights  of  the  individual  as  against  the 
traditional  rights  of  the  classes  and  the  divine  right 
of  kings.  The  insistence  upon  a  return  to  the  funda- 
mental basis  of  human  nature  as  the  primary  source 
of  knowledge  was  transferred  to  the  sphere  of  politics 
by  Rousseau,  who  urged  a  return,  in  a  modified 
sense,  to  the  natural  state  of  man  as  the  ideal  of  the 
communal  as  well  as  the  individual  life.  Locke  had 
likened  the  beginnings  of  all  consciousness  in  the  ex- 
perience of  the  individual  to  a  tabula  rasa,  a  clean 
sheet,  containing  no  record  of  the  past,  no  hereditary 
tracings  of  predisposition,  no  potentiality  of  con- 
structive and  organising  powers.  Such  a  doctrine 
was  peculiarly  adaptable  to  the  pohtical  disposition  of 
that  age,  and  met  with  a  natural  response  in  the  gen- 
eral spirit  of  discontent  with  the  old,  and  a  yearning 
after  a  new  order  of  things.  The  new  order  was  to 
begin  with  a  tabula  rasa,  a  clean  page,  upon  which 
to  write  the  history  of  regenerate  days. 

As  with  the  speculative  ideas  of  this  age,  so  also 
these  more  practical  results  were  felt  to  be  one-sided 
in  their  development.  They,  too,  needed  the  cor- 
recting and  supplementing  influence  of  some  larger 
comprehensive  idea  which  should  serve  to  unify  them, 
a  fundamental  principle  of  truth  whose  office  might 
prove  constructive  rather  than  destructive,  capable 
of  clearing  the  vision  and  of  grounding  conviction 
upon  a  surer  foundation.  Again,  it  was  necessary 
to  show  that  these  most  complex  phenomena  can- 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT      21 

not  be  explained  by  reducing  them  to  their  lowest 
terms,  and  also  that  the  final  phase  in  the  course  of  a 
progressive  development  is  not  to  be  explained  merely 
by  tracing  it  back  to  its  elemental  beginnings,  but 
that  these  beginnings,  the  rather,  are  to  be  under- 
stood and  interpreted  in  the  light  of  the  more  com- 
plex results  which  grow  out  of  them. 

Here,  again,  Kant  rendered  an  inestimable  service./ 
He  found  God  not  outside  of  the  world  but  in  it.  He 
could  not  be  conceived  as  dwelling  apart  from  the 
world  of  thought  and  activity,  but  must  be  discovered 
in  His  central  place,  as  author  and  governor  of  the 
moral  order  which  constitutes  our  world  of  purpose 
and  desire,  a  God  immanent  as  well  as  transcendent. 
<^So,  also,  in  protest  against  the  utiHtarian  trend  of 
his  day,  Kant  insisted  upon  the  recognition  of  the  law 
of  moral  obligation,  and  upon  a  reverence  of  that  law 
as  tHe  supreme  standard  of  conduct.  Such  a  principle 
cannot  be  reduced  to  the  canons  of  prudence  and  ex- 
pediency; it  is  a  principle  which  it  is  impossible  to 
trace  to  any  naturalistic  basis  as  its  ground.  It  takes 
its  rise  in  our  moral  consciousness.  It  becomes  a 
constant  and  controlling  power  in  our  lives,  subduing 
the  wayward  and  whimsical  sway  of  the  senses.  In 
the  sphere  of  the  body  politic,  moreover,  Kant's  voice 
was  raised  in  vehement  protest  against  the  prevalent 
doctrine  which  regarded  man  as  essentially  a  creature 
whose  desires  are  to  receive  fullest  gratification,  and 
whose  maximum  of  happiness  it  is  the  office  of  govern- 
ment to  secure.  He,  on  the  contrary,  laid  peculiar 
stress  upon  the  dignity  and  worth  of  man  regarded  as 
a  person,  and  upon  the  duties  as  well  as  the  rights 
which  grow  out  of  this  idea  of  personality.  Man  is 
not  merely  a  bundle  of  sensory  reactions,  a  child  of 
nature  impelled  by  the  full  flood  of  animal  life,  a 


22  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

thing,  a  means  to  an  end;  he  is  to  be  regarded  always 
as  an  end  in  himself,  and  thereby  responding  to  his 
vocation  as  a  person  in  the  deepest  significance  of  that 
designation.  Moreover,  the  individual  is  constrained, 
by  his  very  nature  as  a  rational  being,  to  regard  every 
other  person  as  an  end  in  himself,  and  never  as  a 
means  to  an  end.  It  is  a  common  inheritance  such 
as  this,  and  the  appreciation  of  the  responsibilities 
which  it  entails,  that  tend  to  bind  mankind  together 
in  a  society  so  strongly  knit  that  it  will  prove  capable 
of  withstanding  the  shock  of  revolution  as  well  as  the 
ordinary  disintegrating  forces  which  sap  a  nation's 
strength  and  vitality. 

The  tendencies  which  appear  on  a  large  scale  in 
a  great  movement  of  thought  are  to  be  met  with, 
also,  on  a  smaller  scale  in  the  experience  of  every 
individual  as  he  may  endeavour  to  think  himself 
out  of  the  manifold  difficulties  which  attend  the 
formulation  of  a  philosophy  of  life.  These  tend- 
encies may  be  briefly  summarised  as  the  desire  to 
reduce  the  area  of  perplexity  in  philosophical  think- 
ing to  its  minimum  dimensions,  the  exclusion  of 
metaphysical  explanation,  the  tendency  to  develop  an 
extreme  position  which  reveals  its  own  weakness, 
and,  finally,  the  tendency  to  drift  into  an  attitude  of 
scepticism  concerning  all  philosophical  theories  what- 
soever. Then,  if  happily  a  reaction  occurs,  which  in- 
dicates health  and  vigour  of  mind,  there  comes  an 
inner  compulsion  to  seek  some  comprehensive  con- 
structive principle  by  which  the  scattered  fragments 
of  a  destructive  criticism  may  be  built  anew  upon 
solid  foundations. 

Kant  himself  passed  through  these  several  phases 
of  thought  in  the  development  of  his  philosophical 
system.    In  his  own  experience  he  exhibits  a  recapitu- 


THE  AGE  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT      23 

lation  of  the  philosophical  movement  of  his  century. 
Early  in  his  career  he  came  under  the  influence  of  the 
traditional  rationalism;  later  on  he  experienced  a 
reaction  due  to  the  principles  of  the  Lockian  em- 
piricism; and,  finally,  the  influence  of  Hume  helped 
to  bring  about  a  transition  stage  of  scepticism,  from 
which  he  eventually  emerged  upon  that  higher  plane 
in  which  his  constructive  genius  found  free  play 
and  scope. 

Every  one  who  feels  upon  him  the  burden  and  mys- 
tery of  life  must  pass  through  some  such  process  of 
thought  as  this.  For  truth  does  not  appear  to  us  full 
formed,  nor  is  she  always  clothed  in  the  garb  of  sim- 
plicity, nor  does  she  speak  a  language  easy  to  under- 
stand. She  must  be  wooed  and  won,  in  the  face  of 
difficulties  and  in  spite  of  doubts,  by  the  patient 
labour  of  the  mind. 

There  is,  moreover,  in  our  day  and  generation  as 
strong  if  not  a  stronger  tendency  to  reduce  all  the  ex- 
periences of  our  intellectual  life  to  the  simple  basis  of 
natural  phenomena.    It  is  the  popular  demand  for  a 
philosophy  of  naturalism.     There  is  much  talk  at 
present  of  the  science  of  ethics  and  of  the  science  of 
religion ;  of  a  philosophy  without  a  metaphysic,  of  a 
psychology  without  a  soul.    At  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth  century  it  would  be  well  to  reflect  that  the 
eighteenth  century  was  confronted  with  certain  prob- 
lems in  the  process  of  the  historical   development 
of  philosophical  thought  which  were  solved  once  for 
all.    Chief  among  these  historical  conclusions  is  this,  f 
that,  in  addition  to  the  phenomena  of  human  nature,  I 
we   are  compelled   to   recognise   some  fundamental  '; 
principle  of  reason  which  can  give  them  unity,  and  ; 
present  some  worthy  purpose  as  the  end  of  their 
activity.     Whatever  that  principle  may  be,  whether 


24  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

the  "synthetic  unity  of  apperception,"  according  to 
Kant,  or  one  of  the  "moments  of  the  eternal  spirit," 
according  to  Hegel,  or  simply  the  ordering  and  or- 
ganising power  of  the  mind  as  we,  in  the  habit  of  an 
old-fashioned  view  of  things,  have  been  wont  to  con- 
sider it,  we  are  nevertheless  constrained  to  recognise 
it  as  the  supreme  principle  of  reason,  of  feeling  and 
of  conduct. 

,    References. — J.  Mackintosh:   On  the  Progress  of  Ethical  Philos- 
\/  ophy  During  the  Seventeenth  and  Eighteenth  Centuries.     Edin- 

burgh, 1872. 
H.  Hettner:  Litteraturgeschichte  des  Achtzehntenjahrhunderts.   Bruns- 
wick, 1862. 
'   '  L.  Stephen:  History  of  English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century. 
London,  1876. 
Immanuel  Kant:   Beantwortung  der  Frage:   was  ist  Aufkldrung. 

Werke,  Vol.  IV.     Hartenstein. 
Kuno  Fischer:  Francis  Bacon  und  Seine  Schule.    Heidelberg,  1904. 
A.  Riehl:  Der  Philosophische  Kritizismus:  Zweite  Auflage.    Leip- 
zig, 1908. 
W.  Windelband:  A  History  of  Philosophy.    Part  V.    Translation. 
V  London-New  York,  1893. 

R.  Eucken:  Die  Lebensanschaungen  der  Grossen  Denker.    Leipzig, 
1897. 


CHAPTER   II 

LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD 

The  beginnings  of  the  philosophical  movement 
which  is  to  be  the  subject  of  our  study  we  find  in 
Locke  (i 632-1 704).  In  the  Essay  Concerning  Hu- 
man Understanding  Locke  proposes  to  construct  the 
world  of  knowledge  by  exhibiting  its  natural  evolution  . 
from  the  original  elements  of  experience  as  they  ap- 
pear in  their  simplest  expression,  to  the  most  complex 
and  abstruse  ideas  which  the  mind  is  capable  of  en- 
tertaining. He  regards  the  process  throughout  as  a 
continuous  one,  and  also  as  self-explanatory.  Upon 
this  undertaking  Locke  enters  with  a  most  admirable 
spirit,  being  led  to  his  inquiry  through  a  sincere  and 
impartial  love  of  the  truth;  and  actuated,  moreover, 
by  the  desire  to  discover  that  truth  by  his  own  reason, 
freed  from  the  trammels  of  authority  and  tradition. 
Some  idea  of  the  pecuHar  importance  of  Locke's 
contribution  to  the  history  of  philosophical  thought 
may  be  gathered  from  a  remark  of  A.  Riehl's:  *'  The  j 
Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding  marks  not  [ 
merely  a  new  epoch  in  philosophy,  but  rather  a  new  \ 
philosophy  itself."^  In  the  midst  of  a  busy  life,  with 
its  exacting  demands  and  increasing  burdens  of  re- 
sponsibility, Locke  found  some  quiet  moments  in 
which  to  question  the  workings  of  his  own  mind,  and 
thereby  discover,  to  some  extent  at  least,  the  true 
nature  of  its  mysterious  functions. 

'  A.  Riehl,  Der  Philosophische  Kritizismus,  vol.  I,  p.  2. 
25 


26  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

The  idea  of  this  excursion  into  the  undiscovered 
regions  of  the  inner  Hfe  of  thought  was  suggested  to 
him,  in  the  first  instance,  by  a  chance  discussion 
which  arose  among  a  group  of  his  friends.  The 
account  which  he  himself  gives  of  the  origin  of  the 
Essay  is  of  such  interest  that  I  venture  to  quote  it  at 
length :  "Were  it  fit  to  trouble  thee  with  the  history 
of  this  Essay,  I  should  tell  thee  that  five  or  six  friends 
meeting  at  my  chamber  (at  the  home  of  Lord  Ashley 
(Shaftesbury),  in  Exeter  House,  London),  and  dis- 
coursing on  a  subject  very  remote  from  this,  found 
themselves  quickly  at  a  stand  by  the  difficulties  that 
rose  on  every  side.  After  we  had  awhile  puzzled  our- 
selves, without  coming  any  nearer  a  resolution  of 
those  doubts  which  perplexed  us,  it  came  into  my 
thoughts  that  we  took  a  wrong  course;  and  that  be- 
fore we  set  ourselves  upon  inquiries  of  that  nature  it 
was  necessary  to  examine  our  own  abilities,  and  see 
what  objects  our  understandings  were  or  were  not 
fitted  to  deal  with.  This  I  proposed  to  the  company, 
who  all  readily  assented;  and  thereupon  it  was 
agreed  that  this  should  be  our  first  inquiry.  Some 
hasty  and  undigested  thoughts  on  a  subject  I  had 
never  before  considered,  which  I  set  down  against 
our  next  meeting,  gave  the  first  entrance  in  this  dis- 
course; which,  having  been  thus  begun  by  chance, 
was  continued  by  entreaty;  written  by  incoherent 
parcels;  and  after  long  intervals  of  neglect,  resumed 
again,  as  my  humour  or  occasions  permitted;  and 
at  last,  in  a  retirement  (in  Holland)  where  an  atten- 
dance on  my  health  gave  me  leisure,  it  was  brought 
into  that  order  thou  now  seest  it."  * 

"To  examine  our  own  abilities,  and  see  what  ob- 

*  The  Epistle  to  the  Reader.     Fraser's  edition  of  the  Essay,  vol.  I.  p,  9/. 
All  subsequent  references  are  to  this  edition. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      27 

jects  our  understandings  were  or  were  not  fitted  to 
deal  with,"  is  a  task  similar  to  that  which  Kant  set 
for  himself  in  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason.  In  this  ,' 
respect  Locke  is  the  forerunner  of  Kant,  but  only  i 
in  the  sense  that  it  was  vouchsafed  to  him  merely  to 
behold  the  land  from  afar  which,  however,  he  was 
not  able  himself  to  possess.  The  Essay  is  a  plea  for 
the  recognition  of  intellectual  freedom,  in  much  the 
same  manner  as  his  Epistola  de  Tolerentia  is  a  plea  for 
religious  liberty,  and  his  Treatises  on  Government^  for 
political  liberty.  In  the  attempt,  however,  to  free  the 
mind  from  the  domination  of  innate  ideas,  and  to 
provide  a  clean  page  upon  which  to  write  the  rec- 
ord of  its  own  activity,  he  overlooked  the  significant 
truth  that  the  mind  cannot  be  made  independent  of 
itself,  but  must  be  determined  by  the  necessities  of  its 
own  nature.  This  is  the  point  which  Locke  failed  to 
grasp,  and  which,  therefore,  marks  the  fundamental 
defect  of  his  otherwise  masterly  inquiry.  For  in- 
tellectual freedom  can  never  be  a  freedom  from  the 
inner  constraint  of  the  processes  of  thought  them- 
selves, which  like  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  are 
after  all  no  obstacle  to  free  movement,  but  the  rather 
make  such  free  movement  possible.  But  criticism 
must  not  precede  exposition.  Therefore  let  us  turn 
our  attention  to  a  more  particular  examination  of  the 
method  and  point  of  view  of  the  Essay. 

Locke's  method  is  essentially  psychological;  it  is  ' 
an  attempt  to  trace  the  natural  history  of  our  ideas 
to  their  simplest  beginnings  in  consciousness.  And  ; 
all  speculations  which  reach  beyond  the  scope  of  this 
method  of  inquiry  Locke  rigorously  excludes.  As  to 
the  purpose,  and  the  corresponding  limitations  of  the 
field  of  his  investigations,  Locke  clearly  states  his 
position  as  follows:    "It  shall  suffice  to  my  present 


28  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

purpose  to  consider  the  discerning  faculties  of  a  man, 
as  they  are  employed  about  the  objects  which  they 
have  to  do  with.  And  I  shall  imagine  I  have  not 
wholly  misemployed  myself  in  the  thoughts  I  shall 
have  on  this  occasion  if,  in  this  historical  plain 
method,  I  can  give  any  account  of  the  ways  whereby 
our  understandings  come  to  attain  those  notions  of 
things  we  have,  and  can  set  down  any  measures  of  the 
certainty  of  our  knowledge.  ...  If,  by  this  inquiry 
into  the  nature  of  the  understanding,  I  can  discover 
the  powers  thereof;  how  far  they  reach ;  to  what  things 
they  are  in  any  degree  proportionate;  and  where  they 
fail  us,  I  suppose  it  may  be  of  use  to  prevail  with  the 
busy  mind  of  man  to  be  more  cautious  in  meddling 
with  things  exceeding  its  comprehension;  to  stop  when 
it  is  at  the  utmost  extent  of  its  tether;  and  to  sit  down 
in  a  quiet  ignorance  of  those  things  which,  upon  ex- 
amination, are  found  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  our 
capacities.  We  should  not  then,  perhaps,  be  so  for- 
ward, out  of  an  affectation  of  an  universal  knowledge, 
to  raise  questions,  and  perplex  ourselves  and  others 
with  disputes  about  things  to  which  our  understand- 
ings are  not  suited,  and  of  which  we  cannot  frame 
in  our  minds  any  clear  or  distinct  impressions,  or 
whereof  (as  it  has  perhaps  too  often  happened)  we 
have  not  any  notions  at  all.  .  .  .  How  far  short  so- 
ever men's  knowledge  may  come  of  an  universal  or 
perfect  comprehension  of  whatsoever  is,  it  yet  secures 
their  great  concernments,  that  they  have  light  enough 
to  lead  them  to  the  knowledge  of  their  Maker,  and 
the  sight  of  their  own  duties."  ^ 

I  have  quoted  these  passages  in  order  to  show  in 
Locke's  own  words  his  general  conception  of  the 
undertaking  before  him,  and  as  an  illustration  also 

'  The  Essay,  Introduction,  §  2,  4,  5. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      29 

of  certain  characteristic  features  of  the  philosophy 
of  the  Enlightenment  in  its  empirical  phase,  namely, 
the  insistence  upon  inquiry  within  the  range  of  con- 
crete facts,  the  demand  that  the  various  ideas  cor- 
responding to  these  facts  must  be  distinct  and  clear, 
the  silencing  of  all  questions  concerning  matters  too 
deep  or  too  obscure  for  the  human  mind  to  compre- 
hend, and  the  complete  satisfaction  in  being  able  to 
frame  at  least  a  practical  philosophy  of  life.  The 
pragmatic  point  of  view  is  evident  throughout  the 
Essay,  as  when  Locke,  for  instance,  insists  later  in 
the  Introduction  that  "our  business  here  is  not  to 
know  all  things,  but  those  which  concern  our  conduct. 
If  we  can  find  out  those  measures  whereby  a  rational 
creature,  put  in  that  state  in  which  man  is  in  this 
world,  may  and  ought  to  govern  his  opinions,  and 
actions  depending  thereon,  we  need  not  be  troubled 
that  some  other  things  escape  our  knowledge."  ^ 

The  sources  of  all  knowledge  Locke  finds  in  sensa- 
tion and  reflection.  The  first  book  of  the  Essay  is  de- 
voted to  his  preliminary  and  fundamental  contention 
that  there  are  no  innate  ideas  either  speculative  or 
practical.  He  then  proceeds  to  show  that  the  mind 
is  like  a  dark  room,  wholly  shut  off  from  the  light 
save  through  a  single  opening.  Through  this  the 
light  streams  from  a  central  source  resident  in  the 
senses.  Through  this  process  of  illumination  there 
is  a  complete  representation  of  things  as  they  lie  with- 
out the  mind.  They  thus  picture  themselves  upon 
the  screen  of  consciousness.  There  is,  therefore,  an 
inner  world  of  ideas,  and  an  outer  world  of  things 
which  correspond  to  them.  The  inner  world  of  con- 
sciousness is  illumined  by  the  light  which  enters  from 
without.     Locke's  figure  of  a  dark  cabinet  with  an 

*  Introduction,  §  6. 


30  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

opening  to  admit  the  light  from  the  external  world  re- 
minds one  of  Plato's  illustration  of  the  cave,  wherein 
the  various  forms  outlined  on  the  wall  of  the  cavern 
are  merely  the  shadow  symbols  of  the  real  substances 
which  they  all  too  inadequately  portray. 

The  one  inlet  through  which  the  light  enters  from 
the  outer  world,  according  to  Locke,  is  that  of  sensa- 
tion. The  senses  furnish  the  elemental  materials  of 
all  our  knowledge,  so  that  a  man  begins  to  have  ideas 
when  he  first  has  any  sensation.^ 

In  addition  to  sensation,  which  constitutes  the 
external  sense,  there  is  an  internal  sense,  that  of 
reflection,  which  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  source  of 
ideas  also.  By  reflection  Locke  means  "the  percep- 
tion of  the  operations  of  our  own  mind  within  us  as  it 
is  employed  about  the  ideas  it  has  got;  which  opera- 
tions, when  the  soul  comes  to  reflect  on,  and  consider, 
do  furnish  the  understanding  with  another  set  of 
ideas  which  could  not  be  had  from  things  without. 
And  such  are  perception,  thinking,  doubting,  be- 
lieving, reasoning,  knowing,  willing  and  all  the  dif- 
ferent actings  of  our  own  mind."  ^ 

Reflection,  therefore,  is  a  term  which  is  used  by 
Locke  to  signify  our  consciousness  of  the  nature  of 
the  active  machinery  of  the  mind.  It  is  a  conscious- 
ness, however,  of  processes  merely,  and  not  of  their 
content.  The  actual  content  of  knowledge  is  fur- 
nished by  the  senses,  to  which  all  of  our  ideas  can  be 
eventually  traced.  The  operations  of  the  mind,  of 
which  reflection  makes  us  conscious,  and  the  ideas 
which  they  furnish,  are  phrases  suflSciently  compre- 
hensive in  themselves,  as  well  as  sufficiently  indefi- 
nite, to  embrace  any  conceivable  theory  of  knowledge 
whatsoever.     Their  meaning  must  be  more  specifi- 

*  Book  II,  chap.  I,  §  23.  ^  Book  II,  chap.  I,  §  4. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      31 

cally  determined.  The  essential  point,  therefore,  in 
reference  to  the  system  which  we  are  to  examine  is 
this:  What  is  the  pecuHar  significance  which  Locke 
attaches  to  such  phrases;  and  in  what  sense  does 
he  use  them  in  his  account  of  the  process  by  which 
the  higher  and  more  complex  forms  of  thought  are 
developed  out  of  the  material  presented  to  the  mind 
through  the  simple  experiences  of  sense  perception  ? 
While  it  must  be  allowed  that  in  addition  to  the 
primary  sensations,  as  the  source  whence  the  ma- 
terials of  knowledge  are  constantly  supplied,  Locke 
also  recognises  the  active  powers  of  the  mind  as  oper- 
ative in  constructing  this  material  into  an  ordered 
body  of  knowledge;  nevertheless,  he  fails  to  appre- 
ciate in  any  due  sense  the  proper  function  of  this 
activity,  and  the  full  significance  of  the  role  which  it 
plays  in  the  life  of  the  intellect.  It  is  in  this  respect 
that  his  theory  of  knowledge  has  proved  inadequate, 
and  has  opened  the  way  to  misunderstandings  and 
contradictions  on  the  part  of  the  many  who  have 
built  upon  his  foundations, 

Locke's  initial  error,  I  think,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
assertion,  oft  repeated,  that  the  mind  is  passive  in  the 
process  of  receiving  the  sensory  materials  of  knowl- 
edge. He  says,  for  instance:  "Thus  the  first  capac- 
ity of  human  intellect  is,  that  the  mind  is  fitted  to 
receive  the  impressions  made  on  it.  .  .  .  In  this  part 
the  understanding  is  merely  passive;  and  whether 
or  no  it  will  have  these  beginnings,  and  as  it  were, 
materials  of  knowledge,  is  not  in  its  own  power.  .  .  . 
These  simple  ideas,  when  offered  to  the  mind,  the 
understanding  can  no  more  refuse  to  have,  nor  alter 
when  they  are  imprinted,  nor  blot  them  out  and  make 
new  ones  itself,  than  a  mirror  can  refuse,  alter  or 
obliterate  the  images  or  ideas  which  the  objects  set 


32  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

before  it  do  therein  produce.  As  the  bodies  that 
surround  us  do  diversely  affect  our  organs,  the  mind  is 
forced  to  receive  the  impressions,  and  cannot  avoid  the 
perception  of  those  ideas  that  are  annexed  to  them."  ^ 

This  conception,  that  the  mind  is  hke  a  mirror, 
that  it  receives  its  impressions,  that  its  original  ideas 
are  imprinted  upon  it  by  the  activity  of  the  senses, 
clearly  indicates  Locke's  fundamental  point  of  view^ 
in  regarding  the  mind  as  passive  in  the  early  begin- 
nings of  the  growth  of  knowledge.  He  does  not  allow 
the  possibility  of  any  mental  reaction,  which  in  the 
very  process  of  receiving  nevertheless  modifies  the 
material  received.  Moreover,  in  explaining  the  func- 
tion of  reflection,  he  calls  it  "the  perception  of  the 
operations  of  our  own  mind  within  us,  as  it  is  em- 
ployed about  the  ideas  it  has  got."  ^ 

According  to  this  statement,  Locke  takes  the  posi- 
tion that  the  process  of  reflection  starts  as  an  active 
function  after  a  certain  body  of  ideas  are  given  to  the 
mind  and  received  by  it  in  a  purely  passive  manner. 
In  another  passage  Locke  draws  a  similar  distinction 
between  the  process  of  perception  and  that  of  think- 
ing. He  says:  "Perception,  as  it  is  the  first  fac- 
ulty of  the  mind  exercised  about  our  ideas;  so  it  is 
the  first  and  simplest  idea  we  have  from  reflection, 
and  is  by  some  called  thinking  in  general.  Though 
thinking,  in  the  propriety  of  the  English  tongue, 
signifies  that  sort  of  operation  in  the  mind  about 
its  ideas,  wherein  the  mind  is  active;  where  it,  with 
some  degree  of  voluntary  attention,  considers  any- 
thing. For  in  bare,  naked  perception  the  mind  is, 
for  the  most  part,  only  passive;  and  what  it  per- 
ceives, it  cannot  avoid  perceiving."  ^ 

•  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  I,  §  24,  25.    ^  /j.^  Book  II,  chap.  I,  §  4. 
» lb..  Book  II,  chap.  IX,  §  i. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      3a 

To  conceive  the  mind  as  passively  receiving  the 
various  impressions  conveyed  to  it  by  the  senses  does 
not  represent  adequately  its  true  function.  The 
mind,  even  in  the  simplest  process  of  perception,  is 
never  passive,  but  on  the  contrary  ceaselessly  active. 
Whatever  is  furnished  by  the  senses  is  presented  in 
the  form  of  crude  sensory  material  which  the  mind 
immediately  seizes  upon,  and  by  its  own  activity 
fashions  into  forms  whose  essential  nature  is  their 
intelligibility.  The  process  of  perception,  therefore, 
is  not  merely  a  process  of  transmission  of  sensory 
stimulation,  but  rather  a  process  of  transmutation, 
whereby  the  resulting  idea  in  consciousness  appears 
as  the  product  of  an  exceedingly  subtle  alchemy  of 
the  mind.  It  is  not  given  fully  formed  to  the  receiv- 
ing consciousness,  but  takes  its  shape  along  the  lines 
of  the  mind's  constructive  energy  itself.  Otherwise, 
if  the  idea  were  the  mere  copy  of  the  sensory  stimulus 
we  might  naturally  expect  that  it  would  be  a  picture 
of  the  accompanying  brain  modification,  for  that  is 
the  stage  in  the  sensory  series  which  immediately 
precedes  the  resulting  perception.  It  is  needless  to 
state  that  no  idea  which  appears  in  the  mind  ever 
possesses  such  a  content. 

The  mind's  activity  in  every  process  of  perception 
serves  to  render  the  resulting  product  even  in  its 
simplest  forms  an  idea  which  is  indefinitely  complex. 
Locke's  supposition  that  the  mind  has  furnished  to 
it  through  "naked  perception"  a  number  of  sensa- 
tional units  of  ultimate  simplicity  is  a  psychological 
fiction.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  "naked  percep- 
tion," or  a  simple  sensation,  appearing  in  conscious- 
ness completely  detached  and  isolated.  The  term 
idea,  as  used  by  Locke,  has  a  certain  ambiguity 
attaching  to  it  in  this  respect,  that,  while  regarding 


34  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

it  as  the  psychological  unit  of  sensory  experience,  it 
expands  under  the  very  act  of  contemplation  into  an 
idea  whose  essential  nature  is  its  intelligibility, — that 
is,  an  idea  which  is  thought  related  and  thought 
constituted.  The  original  elements  out  of  which  our 
body  of  knowledge  is  built  up  are  infused  with 
thought  significance  and  implication.  They  do  not 
appear  as  distinct  and  separate,  but  variously  re- 
lated. They  are  bound  up  with  ideas  of  existence, 
power,  unity,  succession  and  the  like — ideas  which 
Locke  assumes  as  a  matter  of  course,  but  which  are 
wholly  inconsistent  with  the  doctrine  of  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  sensory  elements  which  he  alleges  are 
capable  of  forming  the  basis  of  all  our  knowledge. 
In  Locke's  diatribe  against  innate  ideas  he  overlooks 
the  native  constructive  powers  of  the  mind  which 
perform  the  necessary  function  of  rendering  the  crude 
data  of  experience  intelligible  at  the  very  beginnings 
of  our  nascent  knowledge. 

But  not  only  does  Locke  start  the  activity  of  the 
mind  at  too  advanced  a  stage  in  the  processes  of  our 
thinking,  but  also  he  conceives  of  that  activity  as 
operating  upon  the  elemental  ideas  conveyed  to  the 
mind  by  the  senses  in  a  purely  mechanical  and 
artificial  manner.  As  regards  the  nature  of  this 
activity  Locke  says:  "We  have  hitherto  considered 
those  ideas  in  the  reception  whereof  the  mind  is  only 
passive,  which  are  those  simple  ones  received  from 
sensation  and  reflection  before  mentioned,  whereof 
the  mind  cannot  make  one  to  itself,  nor  have  any  idea 
which  does  not  wholly  consist  of  them.  But  as  the 
mind  is  wholly  passive  in  the  reception  of  all  its 
simple  ideas,  so  it  exerts  several  acts  of  its  own, 
whereby  out  of  its  simple  ideas,  as  the  materials  and 
foundations  of  the  rest,  the  others  are  framed.     The 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      35 

acts  of  the  mind,  wherein  it  exerts  its  power  over  its 
simple  ideas,  are  chiefly  these  three:  (i)  Combining 
several  simple  ideas  into  one  compound  one;  and 
thus  all  complex  ideas  are  made.  (2)  The  second  is 
bringing  two  ideas,  whether  simple  or  complex, 
together,  and  setting  them  by  one  another,  so  as  to 
take  a  view  of  them  at  once,  without  uniting  them 
into  one;  by  which  way  it  gets  all  its  ideas  of  relations. 
(3)  The  third  is  separating  them  from  all  other  ideas 
that  accompany  them  in  their  real  existence;  this  is 
called  abstraction  and  thus  all  its  general  ideas  are 
made.  This  shows  man's  power  and  its  way  of 
operation  to  be  much  the  same  in  the  material  and 
intellectual  world.  For  the  materials  in  both  being 
such  as  he  has  no  power  over,  either  to  make  or  de- 
stroy, all  that  man  can  do  is  either  to  unite  them 
together,  or  set  them  by  one  another,  or  wholly 
separate  them.  ...  In  this  faculty  of  repeating  and 
joining  together  its  ideas,  the  mind  has  great  power 
in  varying  and  multiplying  the  objects  of  its  thoughts, 
infinitely  beyond  what  sensation  or  reflection  fur- 
nished it  with;  but  all  this  still  confined  to  those 
simple  ideas  which  it  received  from  those  two  sources, 
and  which  are  the  ultimate  materials  of  all  its  compo- 
sitions.'* ^ 

This  passage  has  been  quoted  at  length  in  order  to 
indicate  clearly  the  mechanical  manner  in  which  the 
activity  of  the  mind,  according  to  our  author,  operates 
upon  the  given  elements  of  knowledge  from  without, 
compounding  part  with  part,  relating  parts  to  one 
another,  or  separating  the  parts  which  appear  origi- 
nally together.  That  Locke  regards  this  activity  as 
working  ah  extra  upon  the  elementary  material  which 
the  mind  receives,  is  proved  by  the  analogy  which  he 

'  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XII,  §  i,  2. 


36  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

draws  between  the  mind's  activity  as  it  works  upon  its 
given  material,  and  that  mechanical  activity  which 
man  exercises  upon  the  materials  furnished  to  his 
hand;  for  these  materials  he  can  modify  and  manipu- 
late only  by  working  upon  them  from  without.  But 
the  analogy  of  the  sculptor  or  the  craftsman  is  a  very 
inadequate  figure  to  convey  the  true  function  of  the 
mind  in  ordering  and  transforming  its  material.  The 
activity  of  the  mind  even  in  the  simplest  processes  of 
perception  is  far  more  than  the  "faculty  of  repeating 
and  joining  together  its  ideas."  The  mind  does  not 
work  upon  the  elements  of  thought  in  this  mechani- 
cal way  from  without,  but  within  the  material  which 
it  organises.  Voltaire  once  said  of  Locke  that  he 
"traced  the  development  of  the  human  reason  as  a 
good  anatomist  explains  the  machinery  of  the  human 
body."  ' 

A  physiologist  of  the  mind  and  not  an  anatomist  is 
needed,  however,  in  order  to  give  a  satisfactory  ac- 
count of  thought  as  a  living  process.  For  the  activity 
of  the  mind  is  like  the  vital  principle  which  works 
within  the  fibre  and  tissue  of  an  organism — that 
architectonic  principle  of  a  plant  or  animal  which 
builds  its  parts  by  organisation  and  not  by  compo- 
sition. After  the  manner  of  every  living  process,  its 
method  of  operation  is  concealed  and  lies  beyond  the 
range  of  obvious  explanations.  In  every  account 
which  Locke  gives,  however,  of  the  formation  of  our 
complex  ideas,  he  fails  to  appreciate  their  organic 
nature.  This  is  true  of  his  simple  or  mixed  "  modes," 
that  is,  those  modifications  which  the  mind  makes  of 
the  original  elements  presented  to  it;  also  as  regards 
his  theory  of  the  nature  of  "  substances,"  wherein  a 
number  of  these  original  sensory  elements  form  a 

'  Voltaire,  Leitres  sur  les  Anglais,  Lettre  XIII,  sur  M.  Locke. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      37 

group  whose  several  qualities  seem  knit  together  to 
constitute  a  definite  thing;  so  also  concerning  all 
"  relations,"  wherein  these  elements,  while  appearing 
separately,  show  some  underlying  connection.  What- 
ever may  be  the  particular  form  which  the  mind  fash- 
ions out  of  the  given  material,  it  is  always  regarded 
by  Locke  as  the  result  of  some  mechanical  compo- 
sition. For  instance,  he  derives  the  idea  of  infinity 
by  a  process  of  adding  space  to  space  which  knows 
no  limit,  and  in  a  similar  manner  the  idea  of  eternity 
is  produced  by  adding  stretches  of  time  to  time,  also 
without  limit.^ 

In  these  instances  Locke's  idea  of  the  infinite  is 
what  Hegel  characterises  as  Die  schlechte  oder  nega- 
tive Unejidlichkeity  that  is,  a  tedious  multiplication  of 
finite  terms  in  a  never-ending  process.  Such  an  end- 
less progression  can  only  bring  weariness  to  the  mind 
which  attempts  to  follow  it.^ 

Locke  is  vaguely  conscious  of  this  defect  in  his 
account  of  this  evolution  of  the  idea  of  the  infinite  in 
our  thought  by  the  process  of  continuous  addition. 
For  he  acknowledges  that  only  "those  ideas  that 
consist  of  parts  are  capable  of  being  augmented  by 
every  addition  of  the  least  part;  but  if  you  take  the 
idea  of  white,  which  one  parcel  of  snow  yielded  yes- 
terday to  our  sight,  and  another  idea  of  white  from 
another  parcel  of  snow  you  see  to-day,  and  put  them 
together  in  your  mind,  they  embody,  as  it  were,  and 
run  into  one,  and  the  idea  of  whiteness  is  not  at  all 
increased;  and  if  we  add  a  less  degree  of  whiteness 
to  a  greater,  we  are  so  far  from  increasing  that  we 
diminish  it."  ^ 

1  Essay,  vol.  I,  Book  II,  chap.  XVII,  §  3,  4,  5. 

^  Hibben,  Hegel's  Logic,  p.  97. 

'  Essay,  vol.  I,  Book  II,  chap.  XVII,  §  6. 


38  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

If  Locke  had  appreciated  the  full  significance  of 
this  limitation  of  the  mind's  compounding  activity, 
it  would  have  led  him  to  a  more  profound  philosophi- 
cal view  concerning  the  function  of  thought  in  the 
process  of  constructing  our  world  of  knowledge. 

Again,  the  combinations  which  Locke  insists  are 
brought  about  by  the  activities  of  the  mind  working 
upon  the  original  sensory  elements  possess  a  unity 
which  cannot  be  accounted  for  by  a  mere  juxtaposi- 
tion of  parts.  The  unity  which  underlies  our  com- 
plex ideas  is  essentially  a  unity  of  organisation.  In 
such  an  idea  as  that  of  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect, 
or  that  of  substance,  the  underlying  bond  is  not  dis- 
coverable in  the  attempt,  even  though  it  should  prove 
successful,  of  separating  the  complex  idea  into  a  num- 
ber of  original  elements  which  are  detached  and  iso- 
lated. The  whole  in  such  a  case  is  not  equal  to  the 
mere  sum  of  its  parts.  The  simple  process  of  the 
putting  together  of  part  to  part  mechanically  can 
never  form  a  relation  betvi^een  the  parts  which  has 
any  other  than  an  artificial  significance  and  there- 
fore can  never  transform  the  combination  of  its  parts 
into  an  organic  whole.  What  is  wanting  is  a  cen- 
tral unifying  principle  which  is  capable  of  organ- 
ising the  various  parts  into  a  complete  whole. 
And  such  a  principle  it  is  possible  to  discover  in 
the  reason,  working  not  upon  but  within  the  ele- 
mental materials  given  in  consciousness,  informing 
them  according  to  its  constructive  power,  which 
,  power  is  simply  the  expression  of  the  inherent  ne- 
cessities of  the  mind's  essential  nature  itself.  It  is 
Leibniz  who  first  notes  the  inadequacy  of  Locke's 
view  concerning  the  origin  of  our  body  of  knowl- 
edge, and  its  mode  of  development.  Leibniz  signifi- 
cantly remarks   in    reference   to  this  point:    "You 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      39 

oppose  to  me  this  axiom  received  by  the  philosophers, 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  soul  which  does  not 
come  from  the  senses.  But  you  must  except  the 
soul  and  its  affections.  Nihil  est  in  intellectUy  quod 
non  fuerit  in  sensu^  excipe:  nisi  ipse  intellectus."  * 

It  is,  indeed,  in  the  intellect  itself  that  we  may 
discover  a  function  which  Locke  himself  never  fully 
appreciated.  While  the  aim  of  the  Essay  Concern- 
ing Human  Understanding  was  the  vindication  of  the 
sufficiency  of  reason  in  constructing  a  world  of 
knowledge  without  the  adventitious  aid  of  *' innate 
ideas  and  infused  principles"  mysteriously  possessed, 
nevertheless,  strange  to  say,  Locke's  weakness  lay 
not  in  magnifying  the  offices  of  reason,  but  the  rather 
in  his  failure  to  comprehend  its  proper  function  and 
scope  as  a  vital  force  in  organising  the  crude  materi- 
als of  knowledge.  And  it  was  just  this  defect  which 
characterised  the  development  of  the  empirical  philos- 
ophy among  the  followers  of  Locke  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  In  that  age  of  reason  there  was  no  appre- 
ciation of  the  constraint  of  reason  in  determining  the 
lines  according  to  which  the  world  of  thought,  the 
world  of  values,  the  world  of  purpose  and  of  conduct, 
is  to  be  constructed. 

Certain  commentators  of  Locke  insist,  however, 
that  he  fully  appreciated  the  part  which  the  active 
powers  of  the  mind  must  needs  play  in  organising  the 
crude  data  of  experience,  and  even  go  so  far  as  to 
urge,  as  Webb,  in  his  Intellectualism  ofLocke^  that  the 
author  of  the  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understand- 
ing should  not  be  classified  at  all  as  an  empiricist, 
but  as  an  intellectualist.  It  is  true  that  there  are 
certain  detached  statements,  which  may  be  gleaned 
from  various  portions  of  the  Essay  and  which  upon 

'  Leibniz,  Nouveaux  Essais,  Book  II,  chap.  I,  §  2. 


40  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

their  face  value  may  be  Interpreted  in  the  spirit  of  a 
philosophy  of  rationalism;  this  applies  particularly 
to  Locke's  account  of  the  possibility  of  an  abstract 
system,  both  of  pure  mathematics  and  of  formal 
ethics.  Nevertheless,  this  in  itself  does  not  by  any 
means  make  Locke's  general  system  of  philosophy  a 
form  of  intellectualism.  His  habit  of  mind  and  the 
spirit  which  pervades  his  work  are  of  a  different 
order.  His  philosophical  attitude  and  point  of  view 
are  to  be  judged  by  the  line  of  general  direction  which 
his  thought  pursues,  and  not  by  the  chance  excur- 
sions it  may  take  here  and  there  from  the  clearly 
defined  path  which  his  main  purpose  has  determined. 
Particular  sentences  or  detached  paragraphs,  which 
occur  now  and  again  in  the  general  treatment  of  a 
subject,  do  not  necessarily  reflect  a  writer's  funda- 
mental philosophical  bent.  In  this  regard  it  may  be 
said  of  Locke,  as  indeed  of  any  other  author,  that  his 
expressed  views  on  various  subjects  in  the  course  of 
the  development  of  his  main  thesis,  must  measure  up 
to  a  certain  standard  which  a  judicious  philosophical 
criticism  naturally  demands.  And  the  canon  of  such 
a  critical  estimate  may  be  expressed  somewhat  as  fol- 
lows: An  author's  general  philosophical  position  is 
not  to  be  assessed  according  to  the  face  value  merely 
of  any  passing  observation  which  he  may  chance  to 
make;  but  all  such  observations  are  to  be  properly 
discounted  under  certain  circumstances,  namely:  (i) 
when  an  author  is  not  aware  of  the  full  significance  of 
his  statements  in  respect  to  their  bearing  upon  the 
general  body  of  doctrine  which  it  is  his  avowed  pur- 
pose to  maintain;  (2)  or,  when  he  does  not  appreciate 
the  fact  that  the  introduction  of  a  given  statement 
into  the  argument  which  he  is  unfolding  tends  logi- 
cally to  contradict  the  truth  of  his  original  presup- 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      41 

positions;  (3)  or,  when  he  introduces  the  material 
under  question  at  the  circumference  and  not  at  the 
centre  of  his  exposition,  so  that  it  becomes  an  epi- 
sode rather  than  an  integral  part  of  his  system  as  a 
whole. 

I  am  persuaded  that  Locke's  alleged  intellectualis- 
tic  principles  of  knowledge  show  all  of  these  defects, 
and  therefore  they  must  be  judged  accordingly. 
They  are  at  variance  with  his  main  contention;  they 
contradict  his  presuppositions;  and  they  are  incidental 
and  not  central  to  the  elaboration  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  his  theory  of  knowledge.  The  Essay 
must  be  interpreted  according  to  the  explicit  theory 
which  the  author  advances,  and  not  according  to  the 
implications  which  certain  portions  of  his  develop- 
ment of  that  theory  may  convey,  particularly  when 
such  implications  are  read  into  his  general  system  in 
the  light  shed  upon  it  by  the  post-Lockian  movement 
of  thought  in  the  eighteenth  century.  It  would  be 
well  to  have  in  mind  in  this  connection  Locke's  own 
commentary  upon  the  proper  method  of  interpreting 
the  Essay.  He  writes  a  few  months  before  his  death 
to  his  friend  Anthony  Collins:  "You  have  done  me 
and  my  book  a  great  honour  for  having  bestowed  so 
much  of  your  thought  upon  it.  You  have  a  compre- 
hensive knowledge  of  it,  and  do  not  stick  in  the  inci- 
dents, which  I  find  many  people  do;  which,  whether 
true  or  false,  make  nothing  to  the  main  design  of  the 
Essay;   that  lies  in  a  little  compass."  * 

This  observation  of  Locke  must  be  heeded  most 
assiduously  if  one  is  to  reach  an  appreciative  under- 
standing of  the  significance  of  the  Essay^  and  its 
influence  upon  subsequent  philosophical  thought. 
There  is  a  temptation  to  "stick  in  the  incidents,"  and, 

•  Fraser's  Introduction  to  the  Essay,  vol.  I,  p.  liv. 


42  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

In  consequence,  a  failure  to  grasp  comprehensively 
Locke's  system  as  a  whole. 

Moreover  there  is  a  most  important  portion  of  our 
body  of  knov^^ledge,  and  a  significant  factor  in  the 
processes  of  thought  as  well,  which  Locke  finds  in  his 
inner  world,  and  yet  which  is  not  given  solely  through 
the  immediate  deliverances  of  sensation  or  reflection, 
that  is,  the  knowledge  of  self.  This  knowledge, 
according  to  his  view,  rests  upon  "an  internal  infal- 
lible perception  that  we  are.  In  every  act  of  sensa- 
tion, reasoning  or  thinking  we  are  conscious  to 
ourselves  of  our  own  being,  and  in  this  matter  come 
not  short  of  the  highest  degree  of  certainty."  ^ 

Now,  while  it  is  obvious  that  the  inner  self  is  re- 
vealed in  the  act  of  sensation,  it  nevertheless  tran- 
scends the  process  which  reveals  it.  According  to 
Locke's  interpretation  of  the  nature  and  function  of 
the  self,  it  is  far  more  than  a  simple  by-product  of 
sensation  or  even  of  reflection.  This  is  very  clearly 
indicated  in  one  of  Locke's  letters  to  Stillingfleet, 
Bishop  of  Worcester,  with  whom  he  carried  on  the 
famous  controversy  concerning  the  alleged  sceptical 
tendencies  of  the  Essay.  One  of  the  charges  in 
Stillingfleet's  indictment  was  that  Locke's  idea  of  the 
sameness  of  person  was  indiff'erent  to  the"  idea  of 
sameness  of  body,  and  that  such  a  position  was 
inimical  to  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  resurrection 
of  the  body.  Locke  replies  to  this:  "My  idea  of 
personal  identity  makes  the  same  body  not  to  be 
necessary  to  making  the  same  person,  either  here  or 
after  death;  and  even  in  this  life,  the  particles  of  the 
bodies  of  the  same  persons  change  every  moment,  and 
there  is  no  such  identity  in  the  body  as  in  the  person"  ^ 

'  Essay,  Book  IV,  chap.  IX,  §  3. 

«/6.,  Book  II,  chap.  XXVII,  §  15,  n.  2. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      43 

The  idea  of  a  self,  therefore,  as  a  person  transcend- 
ing its  bodily  setting  and  the  source  of  its  sensations, 
is  a  conception  which,  by  a  rigorous  logic,  Locke's 
philosophy  is  not  entitled  to  assume.  It  is  a  bit  of 
knowledge  the  fundamental  nature  of  which  cannot 
be  translated,  even  according  to  Locke's  own  account 
of  it,  in  terms  of  any  purely  sensory  elements.  Al- 
though it  is  true  that  the  idea  of  self  is  intimately 
associated  with  the  stream  of  sensory  experiences,  and 
with  the  reflective  consciousness  of  our  mental  ma- 
chinery, it  cannot  be  reduced,  however,  to  a  mere 
sensation,  or  to  reflection,  as  Locke  understands  and 
explicitly  defines  these  terms.  The  idea  of  self  as  a 
personality  must  therefore  be  regarded  as  an  unex- 
plored remainder  which  the  premises  of  the  Essay 
are  incapable  of  reaching. 

Locke,  moreover,  acknowledges  that  personal  iden- 
tity is  essentially  identity  of  consciousness,^  and  it 
is  this  identity  of  consciousness  which  is  the  unify- 
ing bond  of  the  manifold  experiences  of  life.  It  is 
impossible  for  Locke  to  construct  his  world  of 
knowledge  as  a  self-consistent  whole  without  this 
assumption  of  a  central  self.  And  this  is  certainly 
an  assumption  involving  a  definite  metaphysic  which 
wholly  transcends  the  original  presuppositions  of 
Locke,  and  the  general  programme  of  methodological 
inquiry  which  from  the  beginning  he  set  himself  to 
pursue.  Later,  Hume,  by  a  more  consistent  logical 
analysis,  clearly  proved  that  the  Lockian  premises 
could  never  reach  a  distinct  central  self,  and  that  the 
idea  of  such  a  self  is  a  wholly  gratuitous  assump- 
tion. 

We  find,  therefore,  that  Locke's  inner  world  de- 
velops at  the  expense  of  his  logic,  and  according  to 

'  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XXVII,  §  23. 


44  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

processes  whose  mechanical  mode  of  operation  are 
not  capable  of  giving  Hfe  to  knowledge. 

This  inner  world,  moreover,  is  made  up  of  ideas 
which  represent  the  objects  of  an  outer  world.  We 
pass,  therefore,  to  a  consideration  of  the  nature  and 
scope  of  this  other  world  as  it  is  conceived  by  Locke. 

If  the  presuppositions  of  the  Essay  are  to  be 
strictly  interpeted,  the  author  is  not  entitled  to  any 
outer  world  whatsoever.  Such  a  world,  however,  he 
assumes  as  a  matter  of  course.  And  yet  in  making 
such  an  assumption  he  goes  beyond  the  original 
simplicity  which  characterises  the  ideas  as  they  are 
given  through  our  sensations.  For  these  ideas  are 
regarded  by  him  solely  as  facts  of  consciousness,  and, 
strictly  speaking,  do  not  refer  to  anything  beyond 
themselves.  Locke  says  that  "whatsoever  the  mind 
perceives  in  itself,  or  is  the  immediate  object  of  per- 
ception, thought  or  understanding,  that  I  call  idea."  ^ 

The  task  which  Locke  sets  for  himself  is  to  build  up 
the  entire  body  of  knowledge  out  of  elements  which 
are  thus  simply  facts  of  the  mind.  The  consistent 
interpretation,  however,  of  the  significance  of  these 
elemental  ideas  from  this  point  of  view  proves  to  be 
inadequate.  The  world  which  they  by  themselves 
constitute  is  unsatisfactory  and  unreal.  Locke  him- 
self is  deeply  sensible  of  the  impotency  of  his  simple 
ideas  in  this  respect,  and,  accordingly,  of  the  mis- 
leading character  of  his  definition  of  knowledge  as  the 
"perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our 
ideas."  ^ 

In  speaking  of  the  reality  of  knowledge,  he  makes 
the  following  significant  remark:  "I  doubt  not  but 
my  reader,  by  this  time,  may  be  apt  to  think  that  I 

» Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  VIII,  §  8. 
»/6.,  Book  IV,  chap.  I,  §  i,  2. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      45 

have  been  all  this  while  only  building  a  castle  in  the 
air;  and  be  ready  to  say  to  me:  'To  what  purpose 
all  this  stir  ?  Knowledge,'  say  you,  'is  only  the  per- 
ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  own 
ideas;  but  who  knows  what  those  ideas  may  be  ? 
Is  there  anything  so  extravagant  as  the  imaginations 
of  men's  brains  ?  Where  is  the  head  that  has  no 
chimeras  in  it  ?  Or,  if  there  be  a  sober  and  a  wise 
man,  what  difference  will  there  be,  by  your  rules, 
between  his  knowledge  and  that  of  the  most  extrava- 
gant fancy  in  the  world  ?  They  both  have  their 
ideas,  and  perceive  their  agreement  and  disagree- 
ment one  with  another.  .  .  .  But  of  what  use  is  all 
this  fine  knowledge  of  mens  own  imaginations,  to  a 
man  that  inquires  after  the  reality  of  things  ?  It 
matters  not  what  men's  fancies  are,  it  is  a  knowledge 
of  things  that  is  only  to  be  prized;  it  is  this  alone 
gives  a  value  to  our  reasonings  and  preference  to  one 
man's  knowledge  over  another's,  that  it  is  of  things 
as  they  really  are,  and  not  of  dreams  and  fancies.' 

"To  which  I  answer:  That  if  our  knowledge  of 
our  ideas  terminate  in  them  and  reach  no  further, 
where  there  is  something  further  intended,  our  most 
serious  thoughts  will  be  of  little  more  use  than  the 
reveries  of  a  crazy  brain;  and  the  truths  built  thereon 
of  no  more  weight  than  the  discourses  of  a  man  who 
sees  things  clearly  in  a  dream,  and  with  great  assur- 
ance utters  them.  ...  It  is  evident  that  the  mind 
knows  not  things  immediately,  but  only  by  the  inter-  \^ 

vention  of  the  ideas  it  has  of  them.  Our  knowledge,  vo  v 
therefore,  is  real  only  so  far  as  there  is  a  conformity  .r^  ^^ 
between  our  ideas  and  the  reality  of  things.  ...  t*^ 

"There  are  simple  ideas  which,  since  the  mind,  as 
has  been  showed,  can  by  no  means  make  to  itself, 
must  necessarily  be  the  product  of  things  operating 


46  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

on  the  mind,  in  a  natural  way,  and  producing  therein 
those  perceptions  which,  by  the  wisdom  and  will  of 
our  Maker,  they  are  ordained  and  adapted  to.  From 
whence  it  follows,  that  simple  ideas  are  not  fictions  of 
our  fancies,  but  the  natural  and  regular  productions 
of  things  without  us,  really  operating  upon  us;  and 
so  carry  with  them  all  the  conformity  which  is  in- 
tended or  which  our  state  requires."  ^ 

This  position,  however,  is  taken  by  Locke  at  the 
expense  of  consistency.  The  alleged  conformity  be- 
tween our  ideas  and  the  reality  of  things  is  certainly 
an  assumption  which  is  not  warranted  by  the  most 
liberal  interpretation  of  his  original  premises.  An 
idea  which,  as  it  appears  in  consciousness,  refers  to 
something  beyond  its  bare  content,  is  itself  no 
longer  a  simple  idea,  but  is  indefinitely  complicated 
by  an  implied  metaphysic  which  is  supposed  to  find 
no  place  in  Locke's  system  of  knowledge.  That  our 
perceptions  are  "ordained  and  adapted  to"  the  ex- 
ternal world  according  to  "the  wisdom  and  will  of 
our  Maker,"  is  a  doctrine  which  certainly  runs  far 
beyond  the  limits  marked  by  the  empirical  beginnings 
of  knowledge  in  sensation  and  reflection. 

Starting  with  this  unwarrantable  assumption  of  an 
external  world,  Locke  undertakes  an  inquiry  con- 
cerning the  detailed  information  which  our  ideas  are 
capable  of  conveying  to  the  mind  as  to  the  nature  of 
its  various  objects  of  knowledge. 

In  reference  to  the  character  of  the  information 
which  we  gain,  he  discriminates  most  carefully  be- 
tween what  he  is  pleased  to  call  the  primary  and  the 
secondary  qualities  of  matter.  He  says:  "To  dis- 
cover the  nature  of  our  ideas  the  better,  and  to  dis- 
course of  them  intelligibly,  it  will  be  convenient  to 

'  Essay,  Book  IV,  chap.  IV,  §  i,  2,  3,  4. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      47 

distinguish  them  as  they  are  ideas  or  perceptions  in 
our  minds;  and  as  they  are  modifications  of  matter 
tn  the  bodies  that  cause  such  perceptions  in  us:  that 
so  we  may  not  think  (as  perhaps  usually  is  done)  that 
they  are  exactly  the  images  and  resemblances  of 
something  inherent  in  the  subject  (/.  e.,  the  substance 
perceived).  .  .  .  Whatsoever  the  mind  perceives  in 
itself,  or  is  the  immediate  object  of  perception,  thought 
or  understanding,  that  I  call  idea;  and  the  power 
to  produce  any  idea  in  our  mind,  I  call  quality  of  the 
subject  wherein  that  power  is.  .  .  .  Qualities  thus 
considered  in  bodies  are: 

"  First,  such  as  are  utterly  inseparable  from  the 
body,  in  what  state  soever  it  be;  and  such  as  in  all  the 
alterations  and  changes  it  suffers,  all  the  force  can 
be  used  upon  it,  it  constantly  keeps;  and  such  as 
sense  constantly  finds  in  every  particle  of  matter, 
which  has  bulk  enough  to  be  perceived;  and  the  mind 
finds  inseparable  from  every  particle  of  matter 
though  less  than  to  make  itself  singly  perceived  by 
our  senses.  .  .  .  These  I  call  original  or  primary 
qualities  of  body,  which  I  think  we  may  observe  to 
produce  simple  ideas  in  us,  viz.,  solidity,  extension, 
figure,  motion  or  rest,  number.  Secondly,  such  quali- 
ties which,  in  truth,  are  nothing  in  the  objects  them- 
selves but  powers  to  produce  various  sensations  in  us 
by  their  primary  qualities,  /.  e.,  by  the  bulk,  figure, 
texture  and  motion  of  their  insensible  parts,  as 
colours,  sounds,  tastes,  etc.     These  I   call  secondary 


es 


'»  1 


qualiti^ 

The  primary  qualities,  inasmuch  as  they  do  fairly 
represent  the  nature  of  things  external  to  us,  may  be 
regarded  as  constants;  they  are  always  the  same, 
whether  in  the  thing  perceived  or  in  the  perception  of 

•  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  VIII,  §  7,  8,  9,  10. 


48  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

it.  On  the  other  hand,  the  secondary  quaHties  are 
variable  to  an  indefinite  degree.  As  causes  they  do 
not  resemble  the  effects  which  appear  in  our  con- 
sciousness in  the  various  forms  of  sense-perception. 
Whatever  the  cause  may  be  specifically,  it  is  always, 
according  to  Locke,  some  kind  of  modification  of  the 
primary  qualities  of  matter.  However,  the  object 
which  produces  the  sensation  red  or  blue  is  not  itself 
red  or  blue.  No  more  do  we  expect  to  find  sweetness 
in  sugar  or  harmony  in  sound,  but  only  in  our 
sensory  reactions  as  we  are  variously  affected  by  the 
external  stimulus  acting  upon  us.  We  might  as  well 
conclude  that  there  is  some  quality  of  pain  resident 
in  the  knife  itself  which  resembles  the  pain  which  we 
feel  when  the  knife  cuts  into  our  flesh.  The  world  of 
colour,  of  sound,  of  taste,  takes  its  character  from  the 
nature  of  the  organism  which  is  played  upon  by  the 
different  forces  of  nature.  A  slight  alteration  or 
modification  of  the  retina,  and  the  many-hued  variety 
of  the  sky,  of  land  and  of  sea  will  be  transformed 
into  a  dull,  uniform  gray.  In  this  sense,  we  may 
truly  say  that  the  kingdom  of  the  world  is  in  us. 

But  while  the  tone  and  tint  of  nature  may  be  re- 
flected from  within;  nevertheless,  according  to  Locke, 
the  definite  forms  and  shapes  which  nature  assumes 
are  in  themselves  what  they  appear  to  be  in  our  per- 
ception of  them.  The  idea  of  extension,  for  instance, 
fairly  and  adequately  represents  the  true  nature  of  the 
several  objects  presented  to  the  mind  in  the  field  of 
perception.  So  also  the  idea  of  solidity,  or  of  move- 
ment through  space,  or  of  rest,  or  of  duration  and 
position  in  time. 

But  when  Locke  comes  to  the  question  of  the  na- 
ture of  substance,  he  is  compelled  to  acknowledge 
that  his  idea  of  substance  is  not  such  a  perfect  repre- 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      49 

sentation  of  things  as  they  are.  In  reference  to  his 
conception  of  substance  as  a  complex  group  of  sim- 
ple qualities  which  are  always  united  together  in  con- 
sciousness, Locke  confesses  that  "because,  not  imag- 
ining how  these  simple  ideas  can  subsist,  we  accus- 
tom ourselves  to  suppose  some  substratum  wherein 
they  do  subsist,  and  from  which  they  do  result, 
which  therefore  we  call  substance."  ^ 

In  this  statement  Locke  does  not  relieve  the  diffi- 
culties attending  the  nature  of  substance.  On  the 
contrary,  he  begs  the  question.  For  what  the  nature 
of  this  substance  may  be  at  the  last  analysis,  the 
complex  idea  does  not  reveal.  Moreover,  our  com- 
plex ideas  of  substances  are  largely  made  up  of 
secondary  qualities;  and  the  secondary  qualities,  in 
turn,  are  regarded  as  the  result  of  certain  modifica- 
tions and  dispositions  of  the  primary  qualities.  The 
connection  between  the  activity  of  the  primary  quali- 
ties and  the  resulting  effects  which  constitute  the 
secondary  qualities  remains  unknown.  Therefore 
with  any  given  qualities  there  is  no  necessary  impli- 
cation concerning  any  others.  It  is  impossible  to 
discover  why  some  always  unite  together  in  a  par- 
ticular manner  and  by  inseparable  bonds,  and  oth- 
ers are  wholly  incompatible. 

Substance,  therefore,  according  to  Locke,  possesses 
a  nominal  and  not  a  real  essence.  It  is  merely  a 
verbal  convenience  by  which  we  can  readily  desig- 
nate something  whose  real  significance  is  concealed. 
Locke's  idea  of  substance,  therefore,  is  thus  reduced 
to  that  of  the  "unknown  support  and  cause  of  the 
union  of  several  distinct,  simple  ideas."  ^ 

The  Bishop  of  Worcester,  in  his  controversy  with 

»  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XXIII,  §  i. 
*  lb.,  Book  III,  chap.  VI,  §  21. 


50  THE   ENLIGHTENMENT 

Locke,  was  particularly  concerned  about  this  indefi- 
nite characterisation  of  substance,  for  he  was  con- 
vinced that  in  denying  that  we  have  a  clear  idea  of 
substance,  Locke  had  "excluded  the  notion  out  of 
rational  discourse,"  and  that  also,  in  defining  sub- 
stance to  be  "something  we  know  not  what,"  there 
was  serious  danger  of  opening  the  way  to  a  general 
attitude  of  scepticism,  and  that  indeed  of  a  most 
radical  nature. 
j  However,  Locke's  idea  of  substance  is  not  quite  as 
\  indefinite  as  Stillingfleet  supposes,  for  it  is  evident 
^  that  he  feels  a  compulsion  to  refer  a  group  of  simple 
qualities  always  appearing  together  to  something  as 
their  support  and  the  cause  of  their  constant  coher- 
ence which  is  far  more  than  the  mere  sum  of  these 
qualities  themselves.  Locke  distinguishes  between 
ideas  which  are  to  be  regarded  as  archetypes,  and 
those  which  are  to  be  regarded  as  ectypes.  The  idea 
as  archetype  is  one  which  the  mind  frames  of  itself, 
and  having  no  reference  to  anything  in  an  external 
world,  does  not  fall  short  of  a  completely  adequate 
expression  of  that  which  the  mind  intends;  such  are 
the  abstract  concepts  of  mathematics  and  of  ethics. 
The  idea  as  ectype,  on  the  other  hand,  is  always  an 
idea  which  represents  something  in  the  world  without, 
of  which  it  is  a  more  or  less  adequate  copy.^ 

The  habit  of  thought  to  interpret  certain  ideas  of 
this  ectype  order  in  a  manner  which  necessitates  a 
reference  to  something  beyond  themselves,  trans- 
cends the  simple  processes  of  sensation  and  reflection. 
It  implies  a  latent  metaphysic  which  Locke  would  be 
loath  to  acknowledge,  and  which  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  reconcile  with  his  original  assumptions. 
In  addition,  moreover,  to  the  external  world  of 

'  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XXXI,  §  12,  13,  14. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      51 

substantial  persons  and  things  which,  even  though 
never  adequately  known,  must  nevertheless  possess 
some  kind  of  reality,  Locke  claims  that  there  must  be 
also  a  Supreme  Being  of  whose  existence  we  have 
clear  and  abundant  evidence.  The  proof  which  he 
offers  is  in  the  form  of  a  deduction  from  the  cer- 
tain conviction,  as  a  direct  intuition  of  consciousness, 
that  there  is  an  inner  self.  He  says:  "Though  God 
has  given  us  no  innate  ideas  of  himself;  though  he 
has  stamped  no  original  characters  on  our  minds 
wherein  we  may  read  his  being;  yet,  having  furnished 
us  with  those  faculties  our  minds  are  endowed  with, 
he  hath  not  left  himself  without  witness,  since  we 
have  sense,  perception  and  reason  and  cannot  want 
a  clear  proof  of  him,  as  long  as  we  carry  ourselves 
about  us.  .  .  . 

"  I  think  it  is  beyond  question  that  man  has  a  clear 
idea  of  his  own  being;  he  knows  certainly  he  exists, 
and  that  he  is  something.  ...  In  the  next  place, 
man  knows  by  an  intuitive  certainty  that  bare  nothing 
can  no  more  produce  any  real  being  than  it  can  be 
equal  to  two  right  angles.  ...  If,  therefore,  we  know 
there  is  some  real  being,  and  that  nonentity  cannot 
produce  any  real  being,  it  is  an  evident  demonstra- 
tion, that  from  eternity  there  has  been  something; 
since  what  was  not  from  eternity  had  a  beginning; 
and  what  had  a  beginning  must  be  produced  by  some- 
thing else.  Next,  it  is  evident  that  what  had  its 
being  and  beginning  from  another,  must  also  have 
all  that  which  is  in  and  belongs  to  its  being  from 
another  too.  All  the  powers  it  has  must  be  owing  to 
and  received  from  the  same  source.  This  eternal 
source,  then,  of  all  being  must  also  be  the  source  and 
original  of  all  power;  and  so  this  eternal  Being  must 
be  also  the  most  powerful. 


52  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

"  Again,  a  man  finds  in  himself  perception  and 
knowledge.  We  have  then  got  one  step  further;  and 
we  are  certain  now  that  there  is  not  only  some  being, 
but  some  knowing,  intelligent  being  in  the  world. 
There  was  a  time,  then,  when  there  was  no  knowing 
being  and  when  knowledge  began  to  be;  or  else  there 
has  been  also  a  knowing  being  from  eternity.  If  it  be 
said,  there  was  a  time  when  no  being  had  any  knowl- 
edge, when  that  eternal  being  was  void  of  all  under- 
standing; I  reply,  that  then  it  was  impossible  there 
should  ever  have  been  any  knowledge,  it  being  as 
impossible  that  things  wholly  void  of  knowledge,  and 
operating  blindly  and  without  any  perception,  should 
produce  a  knowing  being,  as  it  is  impossible  that  a 
triangle  should  make  itself  three  angles  bigger  than 
two  right  ones. 

"  Thus,  from  the  consideration  of  ourselves,  and 
what  we  infallibly  find  in  our  own  constitutions,  our 
reason  leads  us  to  the  knowledge  of  this  certain  and 
evident  truth, — That  there  is  an  eternal,  most  powerful 
and  most  knowing  Being;  which,  whether  any  one 
will  please  to  call  God,  it  matters  not."  ^ 

In  this  proof  we  recognise  the  old  cosmological 
argument,  a  contingentia  mundi.  It  not  only  indi- 
cates that  Locke  has  a  theology  as  well  as  a  meta- 
physic,  but  also  that  his  theological  position  rests 
upon  a  foundation  whose  security,  in  turn,  depends 
solely  upon  the  validity  of  certain  metaphysical  as- 
sumptions. The  principles,  that  everything  that  has 
a  beginning  must  have  a  cause,  and  that  every  given 
effect  must  have  a  sufficient  cause,  are  regarded 
by  Locke  as  axiomatic,  and  as  such  they  certainly 
cannot  be  traced  to  any  sensory  source  as  their 
origin. 

>  Essay,  Book  IV,  chap.  X,  §  iff. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      53 

The  chief  point  to  emphasise  for  the  purpose  of 
our  interpretation  and  criticism  of  this  argument  of 
Locke's  is,  that  the  idea  of  God  is  deduced  by  a 
process  of  reasoning  which  rests  wholly  upon  certain 
assumptions  concerning  the  nature  of  the  causal 
relation.  Locke  assumes  as  axiomatic  that  the  rela- 
tion of  cause  and  effect  is  that  of  an  underlying 
necessary  connection  between  events,  a  conception 
which  Hume  later  vigorously  attacked.  In  com- 
menting upon  Locke's  argument,  Hume  insists  that 
Locke  falls  into  the  fallacy  of  begging  the  question, 
for  "  'tis  sufficient  only  to  observe,  that  when  we 
exclude  all  causes  we  really  do  exclude  them,  and 
neither  suppose  nothing  nor  the  object  itself  to  be  the 
causes  of  the  existence;  and  consequently  can  draw 
no  argument  from  the  absurdity  of  these  suppositions 
to  prove  the  absurdity  of  that  exclusion.  If  every- 
thing must  have  a  cause,  it  follows,  that  upon  the 
exclusion  of  other  causes  we  must  accept  of  the  object 
itself  or  of  nothing  as  causes.  But  'tis  the  very  point 
in  question,  whether  everything  must  have  a  cause  or 
not;  and  therefore,  according  to  all  just  reasoning, 
it  ought  never  to  be  taken  for  granted."  ^ 

Locke,  however,  not  only  indulges  in  a  gratuitous 
assumption  inconsistent  with  his  empirical  point  of 
view  in  general,  but  he  adopts  a  conception  of  the 
causal  relation  which  is  not  at  all  in  keeping  with  his 
specific  account  of  the  nature  of  causation  presented 
in  an  earlier  part  of  the  Essay.  In  his  explanation  of 
the  origin  of  our  idea  of  causation,  he  says:  "In  the 
notice  that  our  senses  take  of  the  constant  vicissitude 
of  things,  we  cannot  but  observe  that  several  particu- 
lar, both  qualities  and  substances,  begin  to  exist."  ^ 

1  Hume,  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  vol.  I,  Part  III,  §  3. 

2  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XXVI,  §  i. 


54  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

A  mere  observation  of  the  "vicissitude  of  things" 
can  never  give  the  idea  of  causation  as  a  necessary  con- 
nection. Stillingfleet  drew  Locke's  attention  to  this, 
and  in  Locke's  reply,  in  his  first  Letter  to  the  Bishop, 
he  allows  that  the  idea  of  causation  implies  a  neces- 
sary principle  of  reason,  and  clearly  states  that  ''ev- 
erything that  has  a  beginning  must  have  a  cause  is  a 
true  principle  of  reason,  which  we  come  to  know  by 
perceiving  that  the  idea  of  a  beginning  to  he  is  neces- 
sarily connected  with  the  idea  of  some  operation ;  and 
the  idea  oi  operation  with  something  operating,  which 
we  call  a  cause} 

This,  however,  is  essentially  a  metaphysical  prin- 
ciple which  no  simple  observation  of  the  "vicissitude 
of  things,"  by  itself,  however  exact  or  protracted  it 
may  be,  can  ever  discover.  The  reference  to  a  fun- 
damental principle  of  reasoning  is  certainly  a  depar- 
ture from  the  strict  adherence  to  a  purely  empiri- 
cal interpretation  of  the  beginnings  of  knowledge, 
which  consistency  surely  demands.  Without  a  meta- 
physical basis  for  the  doctrine  of  causation,  Locke's 
argument  for  the  being  of  God  wants  a  sufficient 
ground  to  establish  its  validity. 

It  is  a  matter  of  considerable  interest  to  note  that 
Locke's  idea  of  God  is  that  of  a  being  external  both 
to  the  world  and  to  self.  He  emphasises  the  tran- 
scendency, but  has  no  conception  whatsoever  of  the 
immanency  of  God.  In  his  chapter  on  the  "Exist- 
ence of  God"  there  is  in  this  connection  a  significant 
sentence:  "From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  plain  to  me 
we  have  a  more  certain  knowledge  of  the  existence 
of  a  God  than  of  anything  our  senses  have  not  im- 
mediately discovered  to  us.     Nay,  I  presume  I  may 

*  Locke's  First  Letter,  p.  135. 


LOCKE'S  INNER  AND  OUTER  WORLD      55 

say,  that  we  more  certainly  know  that  there  is  a  God 
than  that  there  is  anything  else  without  us/*  * 

This  conception  of  a  God  without,  outside  of  self, 
outside  of  the  world,  is,  of  course,  the  central  idea  of 
deism.  It  is  an  idea  which  naturally  fits  into  Locke's 
conception  of  the  function  of  reason  in  thought;  for 
as  reason  is  regarded  as  operating  mechanically  upon 
the  elemental  materials  of  consciousness  from  with- 
out, so  also  the  divine  reason  may  be  readily  con- 
ceived in  a  like  manner  as  operating  upon  the  ele- 
ments of  the  universe,  fashioning  and  ordering  them 
from  without,  rather  than  operating  as  a  power  of 
life  within. 

We  are  now  to  examine  the  development  of  Locke's 
philosophy  as  it  affected  the  various  writers  who 
came  under  his  influence.  Inasmuch  as  Locke  had 
frankly  acknowledged  that  the  idea  of  substance  car- 
ried with  it  merely  an  intimation  of  some  unknown 
support  of  the  phenomena  of  experience,  this  left  the 
way  naturally  open  for  a  various  interpretation  of  the 
nature  of  this  unknown  something.  Locke's  position 
in  this  respect,  because  it  was  indefinite  and  vague, 
admitted  both  of  the  idealistic  and  the  materialistic 
conclusions  which  were  drawn  from  it.  The  ideal- 
istic interpretation  finds  its  most  complete  expression 
in  the  writings  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  who  was  in  a 
sense  a  follower  of  Locke,  yet  differing  radically  from 
him  in  many  essential  particulars,  and  developing  his 
philosophical  thought  along  independent  and  original 
lines. 

References. — Lord  King:  Life  of  John  Locke.     London,  1829. 
Henry  Richard  Fox  Bourne:   Lije  oj  John  Locke.     London,  1876. 
R.  Adamson:    The  Development  oj  Modern  Philosophy.    Vol.  I. 
Edinburgh,  1903. 

*  Essay,  Book  IV,  chap.  X,  §  6. 


56  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

S.  Alexander:  Locke.  {Philosophies,  Ancient  and  Modern.)  Lon- 
don, 1908. 

Cousin:  La  Philosophic  de  Locke.     Sixth  edition.     Paris,  1863. 

T.  Fowler:  Locke.     (English  Men  of  Letters.)     London,  1880. 

A.  C.  Fraser:  Locke.  (Philosophical  Classics  for  English  Readers.) 
Edinburgh,  1890. 

A.  C.  Fraser:  Edition  of  Locke's  Essay.     Clarendon  Press,  1894. 

T.  H.  Green:  Introduction  to  Hume's  Treatise  of  Human  Nature. 
Green's  Works,  vol.  I,  London,  1885,  or  Green  £r*  Grose 
Edition  of  Hume's  Treatise,  vol.  I,  London,  1874. 

Leibniz:  Nouveaux  Essais.     Translation.     London,  1896. 

James  McCosh:  Locke's  Theory  of  Knowledge,  with  a  Notice  of 
Berkeley.    New  York,  1884. 

A.  W.  Moore:  Existence,  Meaning  and  Reality  in  Locke's  Essay. 
Vol.  Ill,  Part  II,  of  Chicago  University  Decennial  Publications. 
Chicago,  1903. 

Thomas  Reid:  An  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind  on  the  Prin- 
ciples of  Common  Sense.     Edinburgh,  1764. 

Dugald  Stewart:  Locke's  Account  of  the  Sources  of  Human  Knowledge. 
Works,  vol.  V,  pp.  55-86.     Edinburgh,  1854. 

T.  E.  Webb:   The  Intellectualism  of  Locke.     Dublin,  1857. 


CHAPTER  III 
BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM 

George  Berkeley  (1685- 1753)  was  by  natural  en- 
dowment a  philosopher.  In  his  Commonplace  Book, 
written  while  a  student  in  Trinity  College,  Dublin, 
there  is  a  characteristic  record  which  indicates  the 
native  trend  of  his  mind:  *'I  was  distrustful  at  eight 
years  old,  and  consequently  by  nature  disposed  for 
these  new  doctrines."  ^ 

The  early  precocity  developed  steadily  in  his  stu- 
dent days,  and  before  he  had  left  Trinity  College  he 
had  outlined  in  the  scattered  fragments  of  his  journal 
all  of  the  central  ideas  which  later  found  definite 
form  and  expression  in  his  philosophical  works. 

While  still  at  Trinity  College,  he  came  under  the 
influence  of  Locke,  whose  Essay  had  been  intro- 
duced into  Dublin  with  the  enthusiastic  commenda- 
tion of  William  Molyneux,  Locke's  ardent  admirer 
and  intimate  friend,  and  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Irish  ParHament.  Berkeley's  philosophy  is  based 
upon  the  presuppositions  of  Locke,  subjected,  how- 
ever, to  a  more  rigorous  logic.  He  represents,  there- 
fore, an  advanced  phase  in  that  dialectic  movement 
of  thought  whose  beginnings  we  first  discover  in  the 
Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding.  There 
are  many  statements  throughout  his  Commonplace 
Book  which  show  his  early  sympathy  with  a  strictly 
empirical   point   of  view,    and  the   general  method 

'  Commonplace  Book,  Fraser's  edition  of  Berkeley's  Works,  vol.  I,  p.  79. 

57 


58  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

of  the  Essay.  The  following  may  serve  as  a  typi- 
cal example  of  the  many  references  of  this  nature: 
"Mind  is  a  congeries  of  perceptions.  Take  away 
perceptions,  and  you  take  away  the  mind.  Put  the 
perceptions  and  you  put  the  mind.  .  .  .  We  must 
with  the  mob  place  certainty  in  the  senses.  .  .  . 

"I  approve  of  this  axiom  of  the  Schoolmen,  'Nihil 
est  in  intellectu,  quod  non  prius  fuit  in  sensu'  I  wish 
they  had  stuck  to  it.  It  had  never  taught  them  the 
doctrine  of  abstract  ideas."  ^ 

The  first  paragraph  of  Berkeley's  Principles  of 
Human  Knowledge  is  substantially  a  restatement  of 
the  fundamental  position  of  the  Essay.  This  also 
forms  the  foundation  upon  which  Berkeley  endeav- 
ours to  raise  the  entire  superstructure  of  knowledge. 
He  says:  "It  is  evident  to  any  one  who  takes  a  sur- 
vey of  the  objects  of  human  knowledge,  that  they 
are  either  ideas  actually  imprinted  on  the  senses; 
or  else  such  as  are  perceived  by  attending  to  the 
passions  and  operations  of  the  mind;  or,  lastly, 
ideas  formed  by  help  of  memory  and  imagination — 
either  compounding,  dividing  or  barely  representing 
those  originally  perceived  in  the  aforesaid  ways.  By 
sight,  I  have  the  ideas  of  light  and  colours,  with  their 
several  degrees  and  variations.  By  touch,  I  perceive 
hard  and  soft,  heat  and  cold,  motion  and  resistance; 
and  of  all  these  more  or  less  either  as  to  quantity 
or  degree.  Smelling  furnishes  me  with  odours;  the 
palate  with  tastes;  and  hearing  conveys  sounds  to 
the  mind  in  all  their  variety  of  tone  and  composition. 
And  as  several  of  these  are  observed  to  accompany 
each  other,  they  come  to  be  marked  by  one  name,  and 
so  to  be  reputed  as  one  thing.    Thus,  for  example,  a 

*  Frazer's  Berkeley,  vol.  I,  pp.  27,44,48.  (All  subsequent  references  to 
Berkeley  will  be  to  Eraser's  edition.) 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  59 

certain  colour,  taste,  smell,  figure  and  consistence 
having  been  observed  to  go  together,  are  accounted 
one  distinct  thing,  signified  by  the  name  apple;  other 
collections  of  ideas  constitute  a  stone,  a  tree,  a  book 
and  the  like  sensible  things;  v^hich,  as  they  are 
pleasing  or  disagreeable,  excite  the  passions  of  love, 
hatred,  joy,  grief  and  so  forth."  ^ 

Berkeley  thus  starts  with  Locke's  assumption  that 
the  elemental  unit  of  all  knowledge  is  the  concrete 
particular  experience  of  sense.  He  insists,  however, 
that  what  is  presented  to  our  minds  through  the 
process  of  sense-perception,  namely,  the  particular 
idea,  is  in  every  case  an  exhaustive  expression  of  all 
that  we  can  possibly  know  of  the  actual  experience 
which  appears  in  consciousness  as  the  object  of 
knowledge.  Locke  had  endeavoured  to  go  behind 
the  idea  in  the  mind,  and  had  declared  most  em- 
phatically that  there  is  some  substance  in  the  form 
of  an  external  object  corresponding  to  the  idea  in  the 
mind;  and  that  while  we  do  not  know  what  this 
object  is,  we  undoubtedly  know  that  it  is. 

Berkeley  contends,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  as- 
sumption of  the  existence  of  any  material  substance 
outside  and  independent  of  the  observing  mind  is 
wholly  gratuitous  and  unwarrantable  upon  a  strict 
interpretation  of  the  original  premises  of  Locke. 
The  mind  is  to  be  regarded,  therefore,  as  having  no 
function  of  reference  beyond  itself.  The  funda- 
mental error  in  Locke's  reasoning  Berkeley  traces  to 
his  failure  to  appreciate  the  illusory  nature  of  all  ab- 
stract ideas.  An  abstract  idea,  he  maintains,  is  a 
pure  fiction  of  the  mind,  and  becomes  a  fatal  source 
of  confusion  in  thought,  for  abstraction  is  essentially 
a  process  of  separating  ideas  indissolubly  bound  to- 

'  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  vol.  I,  p.  257/. 


60  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

gether.  This  was  the  ground  principle  of  Berkeley's 
polemic  position.  And  it  grew  out  of  the  impossible 
conception  which,  in  his  judgment,  Locke  had  en- 
tertained concerning  the  nature  of  substance.  He 
held  that  Locke  had  taken  a  wholly  unwarrantable 
course  in  his  reasoning  when  he  had  abstracted  the 
idea  of  an  underlying  something  which  was  the 
unknown  substratum  of  a  group  of  various  quali- 
ties always  appearing  together  in  consciousness,  and 
had  regarded  it  as  an  external  independent  thing.  If 
Locke  had  strictly  excluded  any  such  abstract  con- 
ception as  this,  and  had  consistently  held  together 
in  his  thought  the  qualities  of  a  thing  as  coextensive 
with  the  thing  itself,  and  if  he  had  never  allowed 
the  object  of  knowledge  to  be  regarded  as  distinct 
from  the  group  of  quahties  constituting  the  idea  of  it 
in  consciousness,  then  he  never  would  have  made 
the  lamentable  mistake  of  separating  the  world  of  ap- 
pearance from  the  world  of  reality.  Berkeley's  posi- 
tion as  regards  abstract  ideas  was  most  highly  com- 
mended by  David  Hume,  who  said  of  it:  "I  look 
upon  this  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  valuable 
discoveries  that  has  been  made  of  late  years  in  the 
republic   of  letters."  ^ 

The  doctrine  of  abstract  ideas  we  may  regard, 
therefore,  as  the  first  point  of  departure  of  Berkeley's 
thought  from  that  of  Locke.  The  second  is  his  posi- 
tion concerning  Locke's  distinction  between  the 
primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  matter,  Locke, 
it  will  be  remembered,  had  held  that  while  the  sec- 
ondary qualities  of  matter — colours,  sounds,  odours, 
flavours  and  the  like — do  not  represent  the  actual 
properties  of  the  object  perceived,  but  rather  the 
manner  in  which  our  peculiar  kind  of  organism  may 

»  Hume,  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  Part  I,  §  7. 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  61 

be  affected,  the  primary  qualities  of  form,  figure, 
extension  and  solidity,  nevertheless,  do  fairly  repre- 
sent the  nature  of  the  object  as  it  really  is. 

Berkeley,  on  the  contrary,  completely  wipes  out 
all  distinctions  whatsoever  between  the  supposed  pri- 
mary and  secondary  qualities  of  matter,  and  con- 
siders the  ideas  of  extension,  figure,  motion,  rest, 
solidity  and  number  quite  as  subjective  as  taste, 
colour  or  sound.  The  primary  and  secondary  qual- 
ities shade  off  so  imperceptibly  the  one  into  the 
other  that  it  is  impossible  to  draw  a  consistent  line 
of  demarcation  between  them.  Here,  again,  is  the 
fallacy  and  the  folly  of  abstract  ideas.  If  the  colour 
is  subjective,  so  also  is  the  extended  surface,  because 
you  cannot  have  a  surface  which  is  not  at  the  same 
time  coloured  as  well.  Mere  extension  void  of  colour 
is  a  highly  abstract  idea  which  represents  a  tour  de 
force  of  our  mental  activity  without  any  correspon- 
dence whatsoever  with  our  actual  experiences.  In 
an  early  essay,  which  was  the  result  of  his  philosoph- 
ical thinking  while  still  in  Dublin,  and  published 
when  he  was  only  twenty-four  years  of  age,  entitled 
Essay  Towards  a  New  Theory  of  Vision,  Berkeley 
had  already  laid  the  foundation  for  this  veiw  as  to  the 
indirect  and  subjective  character  of  our  perception  of 
the  so-called  primary  qualities  of  matter;  and  conse- 
quently it  became  the  foundation  also  of  his  theory  of 
idealism.  In  this  Essay  he  attempts  to  show  in  detail 
that  we  have  no  immediate  intuition  of  distance  by 
sight,  but  that  our  perception  of  it  is  indirect,  com- 
posed of  a  group  of  suggestions  and  inferences  con- 
nected with  the  elemental  sensations  attending  the 
process  of  vision,  and  further  complicated  by  the  in- 
timate associations  with  the  materials  of  knowledge 
furnished  by  the  sense  of  touch.    It  follows,  therefore, 


62  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

that  the  idea  of  distance  and  of  position,  with  the 
consequent  ideas  of  form  and  figure,  are  quite  as  de- 
pendent upon  the  interpreting  mind  as  the  ideas  of 
colour  and  taste.  The  same  may  be  shown  also  of 
the  ideas  of  solidity,  motion  and  rest,  number  and  the 
like.  We  find,  therefore,  Berkeley's  world  of  ideas 
assuming  shape  and  determining  its  own  bounds,  so 
as  to  comprise  within  itself  the  entire  body  of  our 
knowledge.  For  him  the  world  of  ideas  is  the  world 
of  reality. 

To  appreciate  Berkeley's  contribution  to  the  gen- 
eral movement  of  thought  which  we  are  studying, 
as  well  as  to  estimate  critically  the  value  of  his  philo- 
sophical position  in  itself,  it  will  be  necessary  to  gain 
a  sympathetic  understanding  of  his  idealistic  point  of 
view,  and  to  enter  with  some  degree  of  discernment 
into  the  spirit  of  his  interpretation  of  the  world  as  it 
lies  before  him,  in  its  infinite  variety  of  beauty  and 
power,  as  a  world  of  ideas  only.  By  a  sympathetic 
appreciation  of  Berkeley's  position,  I  mean  the  honest 
endeavour  on  our  part  to  see  things  as  he  saw  them, 
without  the  prejudice  due  to  our  habitual  mode  of 
viewing  the  world  of  experience.  In  this  way  we 
can  certainly  come  to  a  clearer  understanding  of  his 
theory,  without  committing  ourselves  in  the  least  to 
his  cause.  Let  us  inquire  then  more  particularly  as 
to  the  manner  in  which  Berkeley  interpreted  the 
simple  elements  of  his  own  experience  and  out  of 
them  built  his  world  of  ideas.  He  discovers,  in  the 
first  place,  obviously  enough  that  all  objects  of  per- 
ception reveal  themselves  as  to  their  existence  and 
characteristic  qualities  within  the  all-embracing  ele- 
ment of  consciousness.  They  fall  wholly  within  this 
element,  and  never  can  appear  outside  of  it.  As  they 
pass  beyond  the  bounds  of  consciousness,  they  at 


BERKELEY'S   IDEALISM  63 

once  fade  out  into  nothingness.  While  in  the  focus 
of  our  attentive  and  perceiving  mind,  they  appear 
with  an  indefinable  atmosphere  of  reality  about 
them.  As  they  disappear  from  the  field  of  perception, 
the  idea  of  them  as  a  memory  can  never  compete 
with  the  original  impression  in  vividness,  in  dis- 
tinctness of  detail  or  in  the  actual  warmth  of  reality. 
When  I  speak  of  the  external  world,  that  world  is 
never  external  to  my  thought,  although  I  may  properly 
conceive  of  it  as  external  to  me.  My  thought,  so  far 
as  it  perceives  the  world,  completely  embraces  and 
possesses  it. 

Moreover,  these  objects  of  my  perception,  these 
objects  which  make  up  the  world  for  me  as  I  know  it, 
take  on  a  certain  character  from  the  very  nature  of 
the  consciousness  itself  wherein  they  stand  revealed. 
There  is  no  object  of  perception  which  is  not  tinged 
by  this  consciousness  colouring.  We  perceive  all 
things  through  the  many-hued  glass  of  our  sense- 
furnished  minds.  There  is  no  other  machinery  of 
perception  possible;  for  every  quality,  whether  pri- 
mary or  secondary,  of  what  we  are  pleased  to  call 
material  objects  without  us,  is  mediated  by  one  or 
more  of  the  organs  of  sensation. 

Sound,  colour,  size  and  shape  all  vary  with  the 
senses  through  whose  channels  they  become  objects 
of  perception  to  the  mind.  The  object,  therefore, 
in  its  entirety,  as  it  appears  in  consciousness,  is  a 
composite  of  sense-received  and  mind-interpreted 
qualities.  Whatever  we  imagine  to  be  present  in 
such  an  object  as  a  supposed  property,  and  yet  with 
no  capacity  whatever  of  disclosing  its  nature  to  the 
observing  mind,  must  remain  forever  unknown,  and 
therefore  must  be  regarded  as  wholly  unreal;  it 
is   a   fancy,  and   not  a   fact  of  the   mind.      Every 


64  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

property  of  every  object,  therefore,  is  in  reality  what 
it  appears  to  be  in  the  consciousness  of  the  mind 
which  observes  it.  An  idea,  Berkeley  insists,  must 
be  like  an  idea,  and  cannot  be  conceived  as  repre- 
senting some  external  thing  composed  of  elemental 
parts  wholly  unlike  itself,  such  as  is  the  popular 
conception  of  matter — "an  inert,  senseless  substance, 
in  which  extension,  figure  and  motion  do  actually 
subsist."  ^ 

As  all  perceived  properties  of  the  objects  of  expe- 
rience are  in  terms  of  sense  elements  according  to 
the  capacity  of  the  mind  to  interpret  them,  they  are 
not  only  mentally  discerned,  but  they  are  also,  in 
a  certain  sense,  mentally  constituted.  The  world, 
therefore,  exists  for  the  observing  mind.  Its  nature, 
its  characteristic  features,  whatever  it  possesses  of 
significance  for  us,  are  due  wholly  to  this  trans- 
forming function  of  perception.  If  there  are  con- 
cealed properties  in  the  world  which  are  incapable  of 
expressing  themselves  through  the  ordinary  channels 
of  sense-perception,  then  these  supposed  qualities, 
as  far  as  we  are  concerned,  do  not  exist.  Whatever 
the  world  may  be  in  itself,  we  know  it,  and  we  are  so 
constituted  that  it  is  possible  for  us  to  know  it,  only 
when  all  its  various  elements  are  translated  in  terms 
of  thought  and  appear  as  ideas  in  the  mind.  The 
nature  of  the  world,  therefore,  is  capable  essentially 
of  just  that  kind  of  self-expression  which  possesses 
this  peculiar  significance  for  the  observing  mind,  and 
as  such  exercises  a  function  which  must  needs  repre- 
sent the  very  core  of  its  reality.  This  is  Berkeley's 
thought,  which  he  compresses  into  the  characteristic 
formula,  esse  is  percipi.  It  would  be  well  perhaps 
for  us  to  have  before  us  his  own  commentary  upon  it: 

*  Principles,  Part  I,  §  8,  9. 


BERKELEY'S   IDEALISM  65 

"That  neither  our  thoughts  nor  passions  nor  ideas 
formed  by  the  imagination  exist  without  the  mind  is 
what  everybody  will  allow.  And  to  me  it  seems  no 
less  evident  that  the  various  sensations,  or  ideas 
imprinted  on  the  Sense,  however  blended  or  com- 
bined together  (that  is,  whatever  objects  they  com- 
pose), cannot  exist  otherwise  than  in  a  mind  per- 
ceiving them.  I  think  an  intuitive  knowledge  may 
be  obtained  of  this,  by  any  one  that  shall  attend  to 
what  is  meant  by  the  term  exist  when  applied  to 
sensible  things.  The  table  I  write  on  I  say  exists; 
that  is,  I  see  and  feel  it;  and  if  I  were  ouf  of  my 
study,  I  should  say  it  existed;  meaning  thereby  that 
if  I  was  in  my  study,  I  might  perceive  it,  or  that  some 
other  spirit  actually  does  perceive  it.  There  was  an 
odour,  that  is,  it  was  smelt;  there  was  a  sound,  that 
is,  it  was  heard;  a  colour  or  figure,  and  it  was  per- 
ceived by  sight  or  touch.  This  is  all  that  I  can 
understand  by  these  and  the  like  expressions.  For 
as  to  what  is  said  of  the  absolute  existence  of  unthink- 
ing things,  without  any  relation  to  their  being  per- 
ceived, that  is  to  me  perfectly  unintelligible.  Their 
esse  is  percipi;  nor  is  it  possible  that  they  should  have 
any  existence  out  of  the  minds  or  thinking  things 
which  perceive  them."  ^ 

/  Existence  with  Berkeley  must  be  evidenced  by  ap- 
pearance, that  is,  by  the  manner  in  which  an  object 
of  our  knowledge  manifests  itself  to  the  observing 
mind.  If  it  is  incapable  of  revealing  itself  in  the 
guise  of  any  appearance  whatsoever,  the  reality  of  its 
existence  is  reduced  to  the  vanishing  point.  More- 
over as  we  conceive  of  any  variation  occurring  in 
the  nature  of  the  observing  mind,  we  must  also  allow 
that  the  world,  as  interpreted  by  such  a  mind,  would 

*  Principles,  Part  I,  §  3. 


66  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

undergo  a  corresponding  variation  in  the  general  as- 
pect which  it  presents. 

For  the  sake  of  a  clearer  understandingof  Berkeley's 
contention,  let  us  suppose  that  two  observers  of  the 
world  in  which  they  live  are  so  constituted  that,  as 
regards  their  several  perceptions,  there  is  a  complete 
reciprocal  reversal  of  sensory  reaction;  that  is,  what- 
ever appears  hard  to  the  one  is  soft  to  the  other; 
what  seems  heavy  to  one  is  light  to  the  other;  bitter, 
sweet;  and  sweet,  bitter;  and  all  colours  as  observed 
by  one,  appear  as  the  complementary  colours  to  the 
other.  Then  the  reality  which  the  world  in  each 
case  would  seem  to  exhibit  in  these  various  observed 
qualities  would  be  so  oppositely  interpreted  as  to 
constitute  two  worlds  and  not  one.  In  other  words, 
our  world  is,  in  its  essential  nature,  adapted  to  that 
peculiar  type  of  sense-furnished  minds  such  as  we 
possess.  Reality,  therefore,  according  to  Berkeley, 
is  that  which  is  able  to  reveal  itself  to  the  observing 
mind  in  such  a  way  that  its  various  qualities  can  be 
expressed  in  terms  of  ideas  which  are  received  through 
the  senses. 

The  question  at  once  suggests  itself  as  to  whether 
an  object  of  knowledge  which  thus  evidences  its  reali- 
ty in  the  field  of  sense-perception,  ceases  to  exist  as 
soon  as  the  attention  of  the  observing  mind  is  with- 
drawn. Berkeley  meets  such  an  objection  by  the 
theory  which  he  dogmatically  advances,  that  every 
existing  thing,  if  not  disclosing  itself  to  an  actual 
observing  mind  at  some  particular  time  or  place, 
must  be  regarded  at  least  as  possibly  under  the 
inspection  of  some  mind  somewhere;  and  always,  in 
general,  under  the  continuous  and  sustaining  obser- 
vation of  the  Eternal  Mind.  Berkeley  deduces  the 
idea  of  God  from  the  necessities  of  his  idealistic  posi- 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  07 

tion.  He  says:  "Whence  I  conclude,  not  that  sensible 
things  have  no  real  existence,  but  that,  seeing  they 
depend  not  on  my  thought,  and  have  an  existence 
distinct  from  being  perceived  by  me,  there  must  he 
some  other  Mind  wherein  they  exist.  As  sure,  there- 
fore, as  the  sensible  v^orld  really  exists,  so  sure  is 
there  an  infinite  omnipresent  Spirit  who  contains  and 
supports  it. 

"  Men  commonly  believe  that  all  things  are  knov^rn 
or  perceived  by  God,  because  they  believe  the  being 
of  a  God;  whereas  I,  on  the  other  side,  immediately 
and  necessarily  conclude  the  being  of  a  God,  because 
all  sensible  things  must  be  perceived  by  him.  For 
philosophers,  though  they  acknowledge  all  corporeal 
beings  to  be  perceived  by  God,  yet  they  attribute  to 
them  an  absolute  subsistence  distinct  from  their  being 
perceived  by  any  mind  whatever;  which  I  do  not. 
Besides,  is  there  no  difference  between  saying:  There 
is  a  God,  therefore  he  perceives  all  things;  and  saying: 
Sensible  things  do  really  exist,  and  if  they  really  exist, 
they  are  necessarily  perceived  by  an  infinite  Mind; 
therefore  there  is  an  infinite  Mind  or  God"  ?  ^ 

The  world,  therefore,  must  be  regarded  as  so  con- 
stituted, in  respect  to  its  essential  nature,  that  its 
fundamental  reality  finds  expression  solely  in  terms 
of  sense-determined  thought.  All  colour  and  sound, 
light  and  shade,  day  and  night,  the  glory  of  summer 
and  the  storms  of  winter,  all  the  labours  of  man, 
**the  furniture  of  earth  and  the  choir  of  heaven," 
exist  only  for  the  mind  which  is  able  to  penetrate  their 
mysteries,  interpret  their  significance  and  express  the 
nature  of  their  reality  in  those  terms  which  none  but 
the  nature  of  mind  can  devise.    The  mind's  reaction 

'  "  The  Second  Dialogue  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,"  Eraser's 
Berkeley,  vol.  I,  p.  424. 


68  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

upon  the  objects  of  perception  as  they  variously  ap- 
pear in  consciousness  reveals,  in  that  very  process, 
the  nature  also  of  the  reality  in  which  these  objects 
are  essentially  grounded.  What  is  matter  ?  We  can 
only  describe  it  in  terms  v^hich  are  known  to  us;  and 
as  known  to  us  the  object  of  knowledge  presents 
itself  in  the  field  of  observation  already  saturated 
with  thought. 

Now  this  capacity  of  revealing  its  inner  nature  to 
mind  which  every  object  possesses,  and  which  is  of 
the  very  essence  of  its  reality,  can  belong  only  to  that 
kind  of  substance  which  also  partakes  of  the  nature 
of  mind,  that  is,  a  spiritual  substance.  Berkeley  in- 
sists that  only  mind  can  act  upon  mind  in  such  a 
way  as  to  produce  ideas  in  it;  and  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  conceive  of  a  so-called  material  substance  pro- 
ducing ideas.  This  is  the  function  of  spiritual  sub- 
stance alone.  Berkeley  finds  in  the  control  over  our 
own  ideas,  which  we  as  spiritual  substances  exert,  an 
intimation  that  the  ideas  which  seem  to  be  given  to  us 
from  a  world  without  are,  in  reality,  the  result  of  a 
like  spiritual  substance  in  nature  acting  directly  upon 
our  minds.  As  to  his  conception  of  a  spiritual  sub- 
stance and  its  peculiar  function  in  the  economy  of 
nature  and  the  mind  of  man,  the  following  passage 
will  furnish  a  very  clear  and  satisfactory  exposition: 

"A  Spirit  is  one  simple,  undivided,  active  being. 
As  it  perceives  ideas  it  is  called  the  understandiiigy 
and  as  it  produces  or  otherwise  operates  about  them 
it  is  called  the  will.  Hence  there  can  be  no  idea 
formed  of  a  soul  or  spirit;  for  all  ideas  whatever 
being  passive  and  inert  (yid.  §  25),  they  cannot  repre- 
sent into  us,  by  way  of  image  or  likeness,  that  which 
acts.  A  little  attention  will  make  it  plain  to  any  one 
that  to  have  an  idea  which  shall  be  like  that  active 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  69 

Principle  of  motion  and  change  of  ideas  is  absolutely 
impossible.  Such  is  the  nature  of  spirit,  or  that 
which  acts,  that  it  cannot  be  of  itself  perceived,  but 
only  by  the  effects  which  it  produceth.  ...  I  find 
I  can  excite  ideas  in  my  mind  at  pleasure,  and  vary 
and  shift  the  scene  as  oft  as  I  think  fit.  It  is  no  more 
than  willing,  and  straightway  this  or  that  idea  arises 
in  my  fancy;  and  by  the  same  power  it  is  obliterated 
and  makes  way  for  another.  This  making  and  un- 
making of  ideas  doth  very  properly  denominate  the 
mind  active.  Thus  much  is  certain,  and  grounded 
on  experience:  but  when  we  talk  of  unthinking 
agents,  or  of  exciting  ideas  exclusive  of  volition,  we 
only  amuse  ourselves  with  words. 

"But,  whatever  power  I  may  have  over  my  own 
thoughts,  I  find  the  ideas  actually  perceived  by  sense 
have  not  a  like  dependence  on  my  will.  When  in 
broad  daylight  I  open  my  eyes,  it  is  not  in  my  power 
to  choose  whether  I  shall  see  or  no,  or  to  determine 
what  particular  objects  shall  present  themselves  to 
my  view;  and  so  likewise  as  to  the  hearing  and  other 
senses;  the  ideas  imprinted  on  them  are  not  creatures 
of  my  will.  There  is,  therefore,  some  other  Will  or 
Spirit  that  produces  them."  ^ 

In  Locke's  doctrine  of  causation,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, ideas  of  sensation  are  connected  as  cause 
and  effect  with  one  another  and  with  things.  With 
Berkeley,  however,  the  causal  stimulus  resides  wholly 
in  the  mind  which  produces  the  panorama  of  sense 
impressions  on  the  screen  of  our  consciousness  and 
determines  their  natural  order  of  sequence  and  coex- 
istence, rendering  them  "strong,  orderly  and  coher- 
ent," ^  thus  serving  to  differentiate  them  distinctly 
from  the  fancies  of  the  imagination. 

•  Principles,  Part  I,  §  27,  28,  29.  =  lb.,  Part  I,  §  30,  33. 


70  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

The  laws  of  nature  according  to  Berkeley  are 
merely  the  ''set  rules  or  established  methods,  wherein 
the  mind  we  depend  on  excites  in  us  the  ideas  of 
sense,"  * 

Any  observed  connection  of  ideas  in  our  thought 
does  not,  therefore,  imply  any  relation  of  cause  and 
effect  existing  between  them.  They  all  issue  at  a 
common  source.  Our  groups  of  ideas  and  their  seem- 
ing coherence  must  be  regarded  merely  as  certain 
marks  or  signs  of  the  things  they  signify.^ 

An  illustration  perhaps  will  make  this  quite  subtle 
conception  clearer.  We  speak  of  a  book  which  we 
have  just  finished  reading.  Its  reality  for  us  is  what 
it  contains  and  is  able  to  supply  to  our  thought. 
Eliminate  wholly  its  significance  for  thought,  and 
nothing  remains.  Moreover  the  elements  by  which 
its  thought  becomes  known  to  us,  the  lettered  page, 
are  merely  the  sign  language  into  which  the  thought 
significance  has  been  originally  stored  by  an  intel- 
ligence, a  spiritual  substance,  like  ourselves.  In  pre- 
cisely a  similar  manner  the  sense  impressions  which 
we  receive  from  the  world  about  us  are  symbolic 
expressions,  conveying  to  us  ideas  concerning  the 
things  they  signify.  The  phenomena  of  nature,  there- 
fore, form  among  themselves  a  kind  of  sign  language, 
a  symbolical  representation  of  the  thought  which 
the  all-controlling  Mind  of  the  universe  would  im- 
part to  us.  If  we  were  less  ignorant  of  its  art,  we 
could  penetrate  more  deeply  into  the  secrets  of  nature 
and  the  mystery  of  the  world.  As  Berkeley  says: 
"It  is  the  searching  after  and  endeavouring  to  un- 
derstand this  language  (if  I  may  so  call  it)  of  the  Au- 
thor of  Nature  that  ought  to  be  the  employment  of 
the  natural  philosopher;    and  not  the  pretending  to 

^  Principles,  Part  I,  §  30.  ^  lb.,  Part  I,  §  32,  33. 


BERKELEY'S   IDEALISM  71 

explain  things  by  corporeal  causes,  which  doctrine 
seems  to  have  too  much  estranged  the  minds  of  men 
from  that  Active   Principle,  that  supreme  and  wise 

Spirit,  in  whom  we   live  and   move   and   have   our 

b"  1 
emg.    ^ 

Berkeley's  ideal  was  the  humanisation  of  science. 
This  conception  had  been  explicitly  expressed  in  his 
previous  essay  on  A  New  Theory  of  Vision^  where 
he  elaborates  more  fully  the  salient  features  of  this 
doctrine:  "Upon  the  whole  I  think  we  may  fairly 
conclude  that  the  proper  objects  of  Vision  constitute 
the  Universal  Language  of  Nature;  whereby  we  are 
instructed  how  to  regulate  our  actions,  in  order  to 
attain  those  things  that  are  necessary  to  the  preserva- 
tion and  well-being  of  our  bodies,  as  also  to  avoid 
whatever  may  be  hurtful  and  destructive  of  them. 
It  is  by  their  information  that  we  are  principally 
guided  in  all  the  transactions  and  concerns  of  life. 
And  the  manner  wherein  they  signify  and  mark  out 
unto  us  the  objects  which  are  at  a  distance  is  the  same 
with  that  of  languages  and  signs  of  human  appoint- 
ment; which  do  not  suggest  the  things  signified  by 
any  likeness  or  identity  of  nature,  but  only  by  an 
habitual  connection  that  experience  has  made  us 
observe  between  them."  ^ 

Such  is  Berkeley's  idealism,  as  I  have  attempted 
to  sketch  it,  with  its  naive  and  daring  assumptions, 
its  protest  against  scholastic  speculation  obscured  in 
the  haze  of  words,  its  evident  theological  bias,  its 
over-weighted  argument,  and  its  strong  underlying 
motif,  namely,  the  purpose  to  undermine  the  materi- 
alistic foundations  of  the  current  philosophical  tend- 
encies toward  scepticism  and  infidelity. 

*  Principles,  Part  I,  §  66. 

^  An  Essay  towards  a  New  Theory  of  Vision,  §  147. 


72  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

This  conception  may  appear  fanciful  and  strained, 
and  it  may  provoke  our  judgment  to  react  against  it 
with  an  emphatic  protest.  And  yet,  notwithstanding 
its  essential  contradiction  of  the  common  mode  of 
viewing  things,  it  appeals,  nevertheless,  to  the  critical 
and  even  hostile  reader  with  a  strange  fascination. 
We  feel  that  it  is  an  idea  which  at  least  challenges 
consideration,  though  it  may  not  produce  conviction. 
In  spite  of  ourselves  we  follow  the  lead  of  this  special 
pleader  with  a  growing  interest  in  the  subtlety  of  his 
thought,  and  in  the  skill  with  which  he  orders  his 
argument.  He  commands  our  admiration  by  his 
freedom  from  all  suggestion  of  the  usual  or  ordinary, 
and  by  his  evident  determination  to  see  things  in  their 
own  light  and  with  his  own  eyes. 

Through  a  wide  range  of  his  speculation,  Berkeley 
possessed  the  courage  of  his  logic,  and  yet  he  faltered 
at  certain  crucial  points.  He  feels  instinctively  that 
there  are  certain  weak  places  structurally  in  his  sys- 
tem which  he  proceeds  to  strengthen  by  additional 
assumptions,  without  being  clearly  aware  of  the  logical 
inconsistency  involved.  For  instance,  he  denies  the 
possibility  of  material  substance,  upon  the  ground 
that  such  a  conception  is  an  abstract  idea  unwar- 
rantably separated  from  the  group  of  perceived 
properties  which  constitute  the  essential  setting  of  the 
object  itself.  And  yet,  not  wishing  to  be  forced  by 
his  own  logic  to  a  position  of  purely  subjective  ideal- 
ism, he  finds  himself  constrained  to  assert  that  there 
must  needs  be  some  spiritual  substance  operating  as 
the  cause  of  the  various  phenomena  whose  appear- 
ance in  the  field  of  consciousness,  independent  of 
our  volition,  can  be  explained  only  upon  such  a  sup- 
position. His  argument  proves  too  much.  If  a  i 
material  substance  is  a  gratuitous  assumption,  then! 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  73 

also  a  spiritual  substance;  for  a  spiritual  substance 
is  quite  as  abstract  a  conception  as  a  material  sub- 
stance. 

Again,  he  finds  in  consciousness  at  the  initial  stages 
of  our  knowledge  merely  a  sensory  affection  of  the 
organism,  the  crude  impression  of  sensation;  and  yet 
in  the  development  of  his  theory  of  knowledge  he 
insensibly  transforms  this  elemental  datum  of  sense 
into  the  consciousness  of  a  perceived  object.  There  is 
a  distinct  difference  between  a  feeling  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  a  thing  which  is  felt,  and  which  is  a  deter- 
mined object  of  knowledge  sustaining  relations  to 
other  objects  as  well  as  to  the  mind  capable  of  obser- 
ving it.  When  the  object  of  knowledge  is  no  longer  a 
mere  element  of  sensuous  experience,  but  has  become 
an  element  in  an  intelligible  system,  then  such  a  trans- 
formation demands  some  explanation  of  the  nature 
of  the  process  which  underlies  it.  This  Berkeley 
does  not  attempt  to  give.  However,  he  is  in  a  vague 
way  conscious  of  a  change  of  significance  in  his  inter- 
pretation of  the  original  ideas  of  sensation.  It  is  a 
matter  of  considerable  interest  to  note  how  Berkeley 
at  times  draws  an  evident  distinction  between  the 
term  idea  as  a  quality  of  sense,  and  notion  as  a 
product  of  thought  quite  free  of  any  sense  mediation. 
This  distinction  is  not  one  of  explicit  definition  so 
much  as  of  usage.  In  the  second  edition  of  his 
Principles  of  Knowledge  he  adds  the  word  notion  to 
the  original  text  in  the  following  paragraph,  the  added 
phrase  being  marked  by  brackets:  "In  a  large  sense, 
indeed,  we  may  be  said  to  have  an  idea  [or  rather  a 
notion]  of  spirit.  That  is,  we  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  the  word,  otherwise  we  could  not  affirm  or 
deny  anything  of  it.  Moreover,  as  we  conceive  the 
ideas  that  are  in  the  minds  of  other  spirits  by  means 


74  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

of  our  own,  which  we  suppose  to  be  resemblances  of 
them,  so  we  know  other  spirits  by  means  of  our  own 
soul,  which  in  that  sense  is  the  image  or  idea  of  them; 
it  having  a  like  respect  to  other  spirits  that  blueness 
or  heat  by  me  perceived  has  to  those  ideas  perceived 
by  another."  ^ 

Both  the  notion  of  spirit  and  the  accompanying 
argument  certainly  are  not  by  any  means  the  result  of 
sensory  ideas  or  any  combination  of  them.  There 
is  another  passage  which  Berkeley  adds  in  the  second 
edition  as  though  to  qualify  a  certain  recognised 
incompleteness  of  the  earlier  exposition:  "We  com- 
prehend our  own  existence  by  inward  feeling  or 
reflection,  and  that  of  other  spirits  by  reason.  We 
may  be  said  to  have  some  knowledge  or  notion  of  our 
own  minds,  of  spirits  and  active  beings  whereof  in  a 
strict  sense  we  have  not  ideas.  In  like  manner  we 
know  and  have  a  notion  of  relations  between  things 
or  ideas;  which  relations  are  distinct  from  the  ideas 
or  things  related,  inasmuch  as  the  latter  may  be  per- 
ceived by  us  without  our  perceiving  the  former.  To 
me  it  seems  that  ideasy  spirits  and  relations  are  all  in 
their  respective  kinds  the  object  of  human  knowledge 
and  subject  of  discourse;  and  that  the  term  idea 
would  be  improperly  extended  to  signify  everything 
we  know  or  have  any  notion  of."  ^ 

This  reference  to  a  knowledge  of  self,  of  spirit  and 
of  relations,  which  cannot  be  traced  to  sensory  ideas 
as  its  source,  indicates  an  appreciation  of  the  inade- 
quacy of  the  strictly  empirical  origin  of  our  knowl- 
edge. It  may  be  regarded,  however,  in  the  light  of  a 
vague  intimation  on  Berkeley's  part  of  the  necessity  of 
assuming  certain  intelligible  relations  in  order  to  ex- 
plain the  organisation  of  the  world  of  knowledge, 

'  Principles,  Part  I,  §  140.  =>  lb.,  Part  I,  §  89. 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  75 

rather  than  any  explicit  formulation  of  the  same  as 
an  essential  and  significant  part  of  his  doctrine. 

If  our  general  point  of  view  is  correct  that  the 
movement  of  thought  in  this  period  is  a  process  of 
evolution,  then  it  is  only  natural  to  expect  that,  in  a 
given  stage  of  its  development,  we  should  be  able  to 
find  certain  ideas  in  a  germinal  or  potential  state 
which  are  destined  to  appear  in  full  flower  and  fruit 
at  a  later  stage  of  the  unfolding  process.  And  in  an 
eminent  degree  Berkeley's  idealism  furnishes  an  excel- 
lent illustration  of  this  very  thing.  Vaguely,  and  even 
inconsistently  with  his  original  position,  he  occa- 
sionally speaks,  in  the  spirit  at  least  if  not  in  the  letter, 
of  the  Kantian  philosophy. 

This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the  later  form  of 
his  idealism  as  seen  in  his  essay  entitled  Sirts:  A 
Chain  of  Philosophical  Reflexions  and  Inquiries. 
The  Siris  shows  a  tendency  throughout  to  rise  above 
a  point  of  view  which  regards  the  world  solely  as  a 
congeries  of  sense-determined  ideas,  and  to  move  also 
toward  a  recognition  and  restoration  of  the  construc- 
tive and  informing  powers  of  the  intellect.  Berke- 
ley calls  his  essay  "a  chain  of  philosophical  reflex- 
ions and  inquiries,'*  and  adds,  as  a  commentary  upon 
this  title,  that  "there  are  many  links  in  the  Chain 
which  connects  the  two  extremes  of  what  is  grossly 
sensible  and  purely  intelligible,  and  it  seems  a  tedious 
work,  by  the  slow  helps  of  memory,  imagination  and 
reason,  oppressed  and  overwhelmed  as  we  are  by  the 
senses,  through  erroneous  principles,  and  long  am- 
bages of  words  and  notions,  to  struggle  upward  into 
the  light  of  truth;  yet,  as  this  gradually  dawns, 
farther  discoveries  still  correct  the  style  and  clear  up 
the  notions."  ^ 

*  Fraser's  Edition,  vol.  III.     Siris,  §  296, 


76  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Starting  in  this  essay  with  a  preliminary  discussion 
of  the  therapeutic  virtue  of  tar-water  as  a  panacea  for 
all  ills  that  the  flesh  is  heir  to,  Berkeley  proceeds,  by 
natural  stages,  to  a  consideration  of  the  assumed  vol- 
atile substance  which  constitutes  the  essential  princi- 
ple of  this  healing  potion  and  is  also  the  secret  of 
its  efficacy.  Thence  his  thought  is  led  by  obvi- 
ous suggestion  to  the  vital  fire  or  spirit  which  he  be- 
lieves must  animate  all  things,  and  which,  in  turn, 
he  is  constrained  to  think  must  be  itself  kindled  and 
sustained  by  the  all-controlHng  Spirit  or  Mind  of 
the  universe.  In  the  earlier  idealism,  the  supreme 
Mind  was  regarded  as  acting  directly  upon  other 
minds,  producing  by  the  resulting  reaction  the  world 
of  ideas  in  consciousness;  in  this  later  form  there  is 
the  introduction  of  a  series  of  secondary  causes  acted 
upon  by  the  supreme  Mind,  and  in  turn  capable 
of  affecting  the  mind  of  man  through  the  various 
processes  of  sense  perception. 

This  feature  of  Berkeley's  later  idealism  is  evi- 
dent in  the  following  passages,  which  are  typical 
of  the  general  trend  of  his  thought  in  this  essay: 
"The  order  and  course  of  things,  and  the  experiments 
we  daily  make,  show  there  is  a  Mind  that  governs 
and  actuates  this  mundane  system,  as  the  proper 
real  agent  and  cause;  and  that  the  inferior  instru- 
mental cause  is  pure  aether,  fire,  or  the  substance  of 
light  (§  29,  37,  136,  149),  which  is  applied  and 
determined  by  an  Infinite  Mind  in  the  macrocosm  or 
universe,  with  unlimited  power,  and  according  to 
stated  rules,  as  it  is  in  the  microcosm  with  limited 
power  and  skill  by  the  human  mind.  We  have  no 
proof,  either  from  experiment  or  reason,  of  any  other 
Agent,  or  efficient  cause,  than  Mind  or  Spirit.  When, 
therefore,  we  speak  of  corporeal  agents  or  corporeal 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  77 

causes;  this  is  to  be  understood  in  a  different,  subor- 
dinate and  improper  sense. 

"The  calidum  innatum,  the  vital  flame  or  animal 
spirit  in  man,  is  supposed  the  cause  of  all  motions  in 
the  several  parts  of  his  body,  whether  voluntary  or 
natural.  That  is,  it  is  accounted  the  instrument,  by 
means  v^^hereof  the  mind  exerts  and  manifests  herself 
in  the  motions  of  the  body.  In  the  same  sense,  may 
not  fire  be  said  to  have  force,  to  operate  and  agitate 
the  whole  system  of  the  world;  which  is  held  to- 
gether and  informed  by  one  presiding  Mind;  and  an- 
imated throughout  by  one  and  the  same  fiery  sub- 
stance, as  an  instrumental  and  mechanical  agent,  not 
as  a  primary  real  efficient  I 

"No  eye  could  ever  hitherto  discern,  and  no  sense 
perceive,  the  animal  spirit  in  a  human  body  otherwise 
than  from  its  effects.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
pure  fire,  or  the  spirit  of  the  universe,  which  is  per- 
ceived only  by  means  of  some  other  bodies,  on  which 
it  operates  or  with  which  it  is  joined.  What  the 
chemists  say  of  pure  acids  being  never  found  alone 
might  as  well  be  said  of  pure  fire. 

"In  the  human  body  the  mind  orders  and  moves 
the  limbs;  but  the  animal  spirit  is  supposed  the 
immediate  physical  cause  of  their  motion.  So  like- 
wise, in  the  mundane  system,  a  mind  presides;  but 
the  immediate,  mechanical  or  instrumental  cause, 
that  moves  or  animates  all  its  parts,  is  the  pure 
elementary  fire  or  spirit  of  the  world.  The  more  fine 
or  subtle  part  is  supposed  to  receive  the  impressions 
of  the  First  Mover,  and  communicate  them  to  the 
grosser  sensible  parts  of  this  world.  Motion,  though 
in  metaphysical  rigour  and  truth  a  passion  or  mere 
effect,  yet  in  physics  passeth  for  an  action.  And  by 
this  action  all  effects  are  supposed  to  be  produced. 


78  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Hence  the  various  communications,  determinations, 
accelerations  of  motion,  constitute  the  laws  of  nature. 
The  pure  aether  or  invisible  fire  contains  parts  of 
different  kinds,  that  are  impressed  with  different 
forces  or  subjected  to  different  laws  of  motion,  attrac- 
tion, repulsion  and  expansion,  and  endued  with 
divers  distinct  habitudes  toward  other  bodies.  These 
seem  to  constitute  the  many  various  qualities  (§  37, 
40,  44),  virtues,  flavours,  odours  and  colours  which 
distinguish  natural  productions."  * 

In  these  passages  the  recurrent  ideas  of  vital  fire, 
the  interposition  of  secondary  causes,  the  analogy 
between  the  vital  energy  of  the  body  and  the  driving 
power  of  the  world,  all  are  ideas  quite  foreign  to 
the  idealism  of  the  Principles  of  Knowledge  and  the 
Dialogues.  The  ideas  have  grown  to  be  something 
more  than  sensible  signs  whose  interpretation  dis- 
covers to  us  the  order,  unity  and  harmony  of  nature. 
In  the  later  thought  of  Berkeley  there  is  an  evident 
touch  of  the  Platonic  idealism.  His  world  of  ideas 
appears  no  longer  inert  and  incapable  of  operating  as 
efficient  causes,  but,  on  the  contrary,  as  a  centre  of 
active  power. 

This  view  is  not  only  expressed  in  the  Sirisy  but  is 
also  explicitly  illustrated  and  established  by  references 
to  the  Platonic  idealism,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  follow- 
ing passage:  "It  may  seem,  perhaps,  to  those  who 
have  been  taught  to  discourse  about  substratums, 
more  reasonable  and  pious,  to  attribute  to  the  Deity 
a.  more  substantial  being  than  the  notional  entities  of 
wisdom,  order,  law,  virtue  or  goodness;  which  being 
only  complex  ideas  framed  and  put  together  by  the 
understanding,  are  its  own  creatures,  and  have  noth- 

'  Siris,  §  154,  156,  159,  161,  162. 


BERKELEY'S  IDEALISM  79 

ing  substantial,  real  or  Independent  in  them.^  But 
it  must  be  considered  that,  in  the  Platonic  system, 
order,  virtue,  law,  goodness  and  wisdom  are  not 
creatures  of  the  soul  of  man,  but  innate,  and  originally 
existent  therein,  not  as  an  accident  in  a  substance,  but 
as  light  to  enlighten,  and  as  a  guide  to  govern.  In 
Plato's  style,  the  term  idea  doth  not  merely  signify 
an  inert,  inactive  object  of  the  understanding,  but  is 
used  as  synonymous  with  aCrtov  and  a/3%^,  cause 
and  principle.  ^  According  to  that  philosopher,  good- 
ness, beauty,  virtue  and  such  like  are  not  fig- 
ments of  the  mind,  nor  mere  mixed  modes,  nor  yet 
abstract  ideas  in  the  modern  sense,  but  the  most 
real  beings,  intellectual  and  unchangeable;  and  there- 
fore more  real  than  the  fleeting,  transient  objects  of 
sense  (§  306),  which  wanting  stability  cannot  be  sub- 
jects of  science  (§  264,  266,  297),  much  less  of  intel- 
lectual knowledge. 

"  By  Parmenldes,  TImaeus  and  Plato  a  distinction 
was  made,  as  hath  been  observed  already,  between 
gentium  and  ens.  The  former  sort  is  always  gener- 
ating or  in  fieri  (§  304,  306),  but  never  exists;  because 
it  never  continues  the  same,  being  in  a  constant 
change,  ever  perishing  and  producing.  By  entia  they 
understand  things  remote  from  sense,  invisible  and 
intellectual,  which  never  changing  are  still  the  same, 
and  may  therefore  be  said  truly  to  exist.  Oyo-ta, 
which  is  generally  translated   substance,   but  more 

*  A  reference  to  Locke's  view  that  our  complex  ideas  which  he  calls 
mixed  modes  possess  no  substantial  reality.  See  Essay  Concerning 
Human  Understanding,  Book  IV,  chap.  IV,  §  12. 

2  See  Berkeley's  earlier  account  of  the  nature  of  idea  where  he  insists 
that  "  all  our  ideas,  sensations,  notions,  or  the  things  which  we  perceive, 
by  whatsoever  names  they  may  be  distinguished  are  visibly  inactive; 
there  is  nothing  of  power  or  agency  included  in  them."  Principles  of 
Knowledge,  Part  I,  §  25. 


80  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

properly  essence,  was  not  thought  to  belong  to  things 
sensible  and  corporeal  which  have  no  stability;  but 
rather  to  intellectual  ideas,  though  discerned  with 
more  difficulty,  and  making  less  impression  on  a 
mind  stupefied  and  immersed  in  animal  life,  than 
gross  objects  that  continually  beset  and  solicit  our 
senses.  The  most  refined  human  intellect,  exerted 
to  its  utmost  reach,  can  only  seize  some  imperfect 
glimpses  of  the  Divine  Ideas  (§  313,330),  abstracted 
from  all  things  corporeal,  sensible  and  imaginable.^ 
It  will  be  seen  that  mind  has  come  to  occupy  a 
more  central  place  in  Berkeley's  theory  of  knowledge. 
His  starting-point  in  the  ideas  received  through  sensa- 
tion has  been  left  far  afield.  He  recognises  a  process 
of  rationalising  our  knowledge  which  transcends  the 
professed  empirical  basis  of  the  Principles.  This 
distinction  between  sense  and  intellect  and  their 
several  offices  and  functions  is  one  which  emerges  in 
this  later  phase  of  his  idealism,  and  is  characteristic 
of  a  growing  appreciation  of  the  inadequacy  of  his 
earlier  position.  The  idea  of  the  Sins  as  a  chain  of 
philosophical  reflections  is  an  endeavour  on  Berkeley's 
part  to  rise  above  the  things  of  sense  and  give  them 
an  intelligible  interpretation  according  to  the  clearer 
light  of  reason.  This  distinction  has  already  been 
noted  in  the  paragraph  which  has  been  quoted  above 
from  the  Siris,  It  is  still  more  explicitly  stated  and 
emphasised  in  the  following  comparison  which  Berke- 
ley draws  between  the  nature  of  sense  and  of  intellect: 
"Sense,  at  first,  besets  and  overbears  the  mind.  The 
sensible  appearances  are  all  in  all;  our  reasonings 
are  employed  about  them;  our  desires  terminate  in 
them;  we  look  no  farther  for  realities  or  causes;  till 
intellect   begins   to   dawn,   and   cast   a   ray  on   this 

'  Siris,  §  335,  336,  337. 


BERKELEY'S   IDEALISM  81 

shadowy  scene.  We  then  perceive  the  true  principle 
of  unity,  identity  and  existence.  Those  things  that 
before  seemed  to  constitute  the  whole  of  Being,  upon 
taking  an  intellectual  view  of  things,  prove  to  be  but 
fleeting  phantoms.  From  the  outward  form  of  gross 
masses  which  occupy  the  vulgar,  a  curious  inquirer 
proceeds  to  examine  the  inward  structure  and  minute 
parts,  and  from  observing  the  motions  in  nature  to 
discover  the  laws  of  those  motions.  By  the  way  he 
frames  his  hypothesis  and  suits  his  language  to  this 
natural  philosophy,  and  these  fit  the  occasion  and 
answer  the  end  of  a  maker  of  experiments  or  me- 
chanic; who  means  only  to  apply  the  powers  of 
nature  and  reduce  the  phenomena  to  rules.  But  if, 
proceeding  still  in  his  analysis  and  inquiry,  he  ascends 
from  the  sensible  into  the  intellectual  world,  and 
beholds  things  in  a  new  light  and  a  new  order,  he  will 
then  change  his  system  and  perceive  that  what  he 
took  for  substances  and  causes  are  but  fleeting 
shadows;  that  the  Mind  contains  all,  and  acts  all, 
and  is  to  all  created  beings  the  source  of  unity  and 
identity,  harmony  and  order,  existence  and  sta- 
bility." ' 

This  seems  to  approach  very  nearly  the  Kantian 
point  of  view.  Indeed,  there  are  some  sentences  in 
the  Siris  which  might  very  properly  find  a  place  in 
the  text  of  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  itself,  partic- 
ularly the  following:  "As  understanding  perceiveth 
not,  that  is,  doth  not  hear,  or  see,  or  feel,  so  sense 
knoweth  not:  and  although  the  mind  may  use  both 
sense  and  fancy,  as  means  whereby  to  arrive  at 
knowledge,  yet  sense  or  soul,  so  far  forth  as  sensitive, 
knoweth  nothing."  ^ 

We    must    not,    however,    hastily    conclude    that 

'  Siris,  §  294,  295.  ^  lb.,  §  305. 


82  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Berkeley  anticipated  the  Kantian  theory  of  knowl- 
edge. This  cannot  be  allowed  for  the  simple  reason 
that  Berkeley  never  appreciated  the  full  significance 
of  his  later  views  and  their  obvious  inconsistency  with 
the  fundamental  position  which  characterises  his 
earlier  idealism.  Had  he  appreciated  the  full  force  of 
his  argument  in  the  Sin's  he  would  have  been  keenly 
sensible  of  the  evident  modification  which  his  initial 
presuppositions  had  undergone  through  the  maturing 
process  of  his  later  thought,  and  he  would  have  felt 
it  incumbent  upon  him  to  state  explicitly  the  relation 
of  the  one  to  the  other.  It  is  a  long  road  from  the 
expressed  conviction  of  the  Commonplace  Book  that 
"mind  is  a  congeries  of  perceptions,"  ^  to  the  last 
word  of  his  philosophy,  that  "sense  or  soul,  so  far 
forth  as  sensitive,  knoweth  nothing." 

Again,  as  in  the  criticism  of  Locke,  it  must  be  kept 
well  in  mind  that  an  author's  views  which  do  not 
square  with  his  fundamental  position  and  the  essen- 
tial features  of  its  systematic  development  cannot 
possibly  receive  that  consideration  which  otherwise 
they  would  naturally  command.  A  position  which  is 
reached  by  logical  inconsistency,  however  advanced 
and  important  it  may  be,  cannot  be  held  except 
through  an  honest  effort  at  retrenchment  and  recon- 
struction. This  Berkeley,  unfortunately,  did  not 
attempt. 

His  idealism  as  the  outcome  of  the  Lockian  prin- 
ciples of  empiricism  became  the  subject  of  Hume's 
keen  logical  analysis.  While  this  critical  inquiry 
resulted  in  a  philosophy  of  scepticism,  nevertheless 
the  very  inconsistencies  themselves  of  Berkeley's 
wealth  of  knowledge  are  highly  suggestive,  and  may 
be  regarded  in  a  way  as  a  prophecy  of  the  more  care- 

*  Commonplace  Book,  p.  27. 


BERKELEY'S   IDEALISM  83 

fully  guarded  and  logically  defensible  principles  of 
the  philosophy  of  Kant. 

Before  passing  to  a  consideration  of  the  develop- 
ment of  philosophical  thought  in  this  period  as  it 
takes  its  course  in  the  writings  of  Hume,  it  will  be  of 
interest,  particularly  to  American  scholars,  to  note 
the  rather  romantic  relation  of  this  Irish  Bishop  to 
the  cause  of  philosophy  in  the  American  colonies. 
An  idealist  in  his  visions  as  well  as  in  his  more  sober 
exercises  of  thought,  Berkeley  conceived  the  project 
of  establishing  a  college  in  the  Bermuda  or  Summer 
Islands  where  both  the  EngHsh  youth  of  the  planta- 
tions and  the  young  American  savages  might  be  ed- 
ucated together  to  the  end  of  effecting  "the  reforma- 
tion of  manners  among  the  English  in  our  Western 
plantations  and  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel  among 
the  American  savages."  ^ 

This  vision  of  an  academic  Utopia  in  the  Summer 
Islands,  with  its  noble  missionary  impulse,  was  never 
realised.  Through  many  vicissitudes  of  fortune 
Berkeley  resolutely  bent  his  activities  to  further  this 
scheme.  This  necessitated  a  journey  to  America 
and  a  consequent  residence  there  of  some  three  years. 
His  temporary  home  was  chosen  in  Rhode  Island 
just  outside  of  Newport,  and  along  the  coast  at  a 
place  which  Berkeley  called  Whitehall.  Here  he  was 
visited  by  Samuel  Johnson,  the  Episcopal  missionary 
at  Stratford,  afterward  president  of  Kings  College 
in  New  York,  now  Columbia  University. 

Through  intercourse  and  correspondence  with 
Berkeley,  Johnson  became  a  convert  to  "the  new 
way  of  ideas,"  and  later  illustrated  the  doctrines  of 
idealism  in  a  work  entitled  Elementa  Philosophica. 

Jonathan  Edwards,  who  was  a  pupil  of  Johnson's 

'  Fraser's  Berkeley,  p.  i20. 


84  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

at  Yale  College,  and  grounded  in  the  principles  of 
idealism,  shows,  especially  in  his  earlier  writings,  the 
marks  of  his  training.  As  regards  the  idealistic  nature 
of  the  objects  of  sense  perception  and  the  ultimate 
cause  which  produces  them,  and  the  function  which 
the  phenomena  of  nature  play  as  signs  of  divine 
power  and  will,  all  this  bears  the  stamp  of  Berkeley's 
idealism  in  high  relief.  Thus  the  two  most  import- 
ant contributors  in  those  early  days  to  philosophical 
thought  in  America — and  pioneers  as  well  in  explor- 
ing the  things  of  the  mind — were  profoundly  influ- 
enced by  the  personality  and  teachings  of  one  who, 
while  he  failed  to  establish  a  university  for  the  youth 
of  our  country,  nevertheless  created  a  body  of  doc- 
trine for  its  scholars.^ 

References. — R.  Adamson:  The  Development  0}  Modern  Philos- 
ophy, vol.  I.     Edinburgh,  1903. 

James  F.  Ferrier:  Berkeley  and  Idealism.  Works,  vol.  Ill,  pp.  289- 
377.     Edinburgh  and  London,  1866. 

A.  Campbell  Eraser:  Berkeley.  {Philosophical  Classics  for  English 
Readers.)     Edinburgh,  1899. 

A.  Campbell  Eraser:  Berkeley's  Complete  Works.  Clarendon  Press, 
1 901. 

T.  H.  Green:  Introduction  to  Hume's  Treatise  of  Human  Nature. 
Green's  Works,  vol.  I.     London,  1885. 

Professor  Huxley:  Critiques  and  Addresses,  pp.  320  ff.     New  York, 

1873- 
James  McCosh:    Locke's  Theory  0}   Knowledge,  with  a  Notice  of 

Berkeley.     New  York,  1884. 
J.  S.  Mill:  Dissertations,  vols.  II  and  IV.     New  York,  1874-5. 
Dugald  Stewart:   Idealism  of  Berkeley.     Works,  vol.  V,  pp.  87-1  ig. 

Edinburgh,  1854-8. 
M.  H.  Calkins:  Persistent  Problems  in  Philosophy.     N.  Y.,  1907. 

*  See  Fraser,  Berkeley's  Works,  vol.  Ill,  Appendix  C,  Samuel  Johnson 
and  Jonathan  Edwards. 


CHAPTER  IV 
HUME'S   SCEPTICISM 

Taking  up  again  the  main  lines  of  the  development 
of  thought  in  this  period,  we  find  the  philosophy  both 
of  Locke  and  Berkeley  subjected  to  the  critical  analy- 
sis of  Hume, 

David  Hume  (171 1-76)  contributes  a  Scotch  strain 
to  the  British  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century; 
which  may  be  regarded  as  a  natural  complement  to 
the  contributions  of  Locke  and  Berkeley,  as  repre- 
sentatives of  England  and  Ireland.  This  Scotch 
thinker  is  an  iconoclast  in  philosophy.  His  is  a  naked 
intellect,  free  from  superstition  and  prejudice,  pro- 
gressing in  its  own  dry  light.  He  had  an  inveterate 
hatred  of  any  unwarrantable  assumption.  His  moral 
nature  as  well  as  his  intellectual  revolted  from  the 
idea  of  taking  more  than  was  strictly  one's  logical 
due,  as  though  it  were  an  overt  act  of  theft  itself. 
Whatever  might  be  the  results  of  his  thinking,  he 
demanded  a  complete  intellectual  emancipation  in  the 
processes  of  it.  His  mind  was  by  nature  pre-emi- 
nently fitted  for  the  signal  task  of  philosophical  criti- 
cism. While  his  analysis  may  not  reach  any  positive 
conclusion,  nevertheless  its  negative  and  sceptical 
outcome  has  been  of  no  small  service  in  disclosing  the 
insufficiency  of  the  fundamental  premises  of  a  purely 
empirical  view  of  things. 

Proceeding  from  the  initial  stand-point  of  Locke 
and    accepting    Berkeley's    criticism    of   certain    of 

85 


86  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Locke's  conclusions,  particularly  concerning  his  con- 
ception of  substance  and  causation,  Hume  pushes 
his  unswerving  logic  to  its  final  and  inevitable  con- 
sequences. His  is  a  "sifting  humour,"  as  he  himself 
styles  it,  and  after  this  manner  the  masterly  pov^er  of 
his  analytic  discrimination  endeavours  to  separate 
the  various  complex  phenomena  of  mind  into  their 
elemental  parts  and  so  discover  for  each  its  proper 
place  and  significance. 

Exposed  to  Hume's  subtle  criticism,  the  w^orld  of 
knowledge  which  Locke  had  laboriously  constructed 
by  adding  part  to  part  is  found  to  disappear  alto- 
gether. It  disintegrates  into  separate  and  discon- 
nected elements,  among  which  there  is  no  bond  of  union 
or  principle  of  organisation.  As  Berkeley  had  sought 
to  destroy  all  material  substance,  so  now  Hume,  in 
turn,  attempts  to  undermine  the  reality  of  any  spir- 
itual substance.  He  uses  Berkeley's  criticism  of 
Locke  as  a  vantage  ground  in  turn  for  his  repudiation 
of  Berkeley.  The  idea  of  a  world  of  order  and  sys- 
tem, spiritually  attested,  Hume  would  not  allow,  be- 
cause it  could  not  be  rationally  defended.  He  did  not 
believe  in  a  world  of  knowledge,  but  in  a  world  as 
a  series  of  sense  impressions  detached  and  unre- 
lated. He  was  convinced  that  there  cannot  be 
any  fundamental  principles  of  thought  intellectually 
grounded  and  justified;  but  that  there  is  merely 
an  habitual  experience  traceable  to  its  ultimate 
source  in  a  certain  psychological  disposition. 

From  this  point  of  view  Hume  develops  the  argu- 
ment of  his  Treatise  of  Human  Nature.  His  proof 
logically  is  a  reductio  ad  absurdum  of  Locke's  posi- 
tion. We  might  very  properly  say  in  the  spirit  of 
Hume:  Given  Locke's  premises,  there  remains  in 
the  final  assessment  nothing  substantial,  systematic 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  87 

or  necessary,  but  merely  the  fleeting  impressions  of 
the  moment,  an  instinctive  habit  of  the  mind  in 
grouping  these  impressions  in  sequence  and  coexis- 
tence through  the  aid  of  a  convenient  imagination, 
and  a  central  personaHty  purely  factitious  and  ever 
vanishing.  Hume  never  turned  again  to  a  re-ex- 
amination of  the  integrity  of  Locke's  presupposi- 
tions, as  every  reductio  ad  ahsurdum  procedure  im- 
peratively suggests.  On  the  contrary,  he  accepted 
frankly  the  negative  results  of  his  criticism.  What 
is  Hume's  philosophy  but  a  "splendid  failure,"  as 
Green  admirably  characterises  it }  And  yet  withal 
as  an  essential  moment  in  the  progress  of  philo- 
sophical thought,  it  serves  a  most  valuable  purpose 
in  exhibiting  by  the  bold  strokes  of  his  genius  the 
significant  inadequacy  of  the  empirical  philosophy. 

Hume's  scepticism,  however,  is  not  flippant,  nor 
is  it  arrogant,  nor  yet  cynical.  It  is  touched  through- 
out with  awe  and  reverence  at  the  mystery  both  of 
nature  and  of  mind.  It  is  the  unfathomableness  of 
their  depths  which  made  all  labour  of  the  human 
understanding  seem  to  him  so  pitiably  futile,  and  he 
was  unreservedly  convinced  that  it  is  impossible  for 
man  to  enter  into  the  way  of  their  secrets.  While  the 
spirit  in  which  Hume  accepted  the  negative  results 
of  his  acute  argument  compels  our  admiration,  never- 
theless his  final  attitude  of  scepticism  is  to  be  regarded 
merely  as  a  transition  stage  of  thought  in  the  progress- 
ive movement  of  which  his  writings  are  an  essential 
factor.  That  movement  proceeds  to  more  positive 
and  satisfying  results,  and  yet  not  without  illuminat- 
ing glimpses  which  may  be  gained  from  a  study  of 
Hume  by  the  way. 

Professor  Huxley,  in  his  volume  on  Hume,  takes 
the  untenable  position  that  Hume's  philosophy  forms 


88  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

the  fundamental  basis  for  a  true  scientific  method 
and  attitude  of  mind,  and  therefore,  in  this  sense,  is 
not  sceptical  and  negative  merely,  but  positive  and 
constructive. 

Huxley  goes  so  far  as  to  identify  in  essential  par- 
ticulars the  work  of  Hume  and  that  of  Kant.  He 
says:  "The  aim  of  the  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft  is 
essentially  the  same  as  that  of  the  Treatise  of  Human 
ISfature,  by  which,  indeed,  Kant  was  led  to  develop 
that  'critical  philosophy'  with  which  his  name  and 
fame  are  indissolubly  bound  up,  and  if  the  details  of 
Kant's  criticism  differ  from  those  of  Hume,  they 
coincide  with  them  in  their  main  result,  which  is  the 
limitation  of  all  knowledge  of  reality  to  the  world  of 
phenomena  revealed  to  us  by  experience."  ^ 

Kant's  work  of  interpreting  the  phenomena  of 
experience,  however,  begins  where  the  labours  of 
Hume  end;  moreover,  Kant  introduces  into  the 
heart  of  his  critical  philosophy  the  ideas  of  necessity 
and  universality  as  essential  factors  in  the  process  of 
constructing  the  elements  of  experience  into  a  coher- 
ent body  of  knowledge.  And  it  is  against  the  possi- 
bility of  these  very  ideas  that  the  whole  force  of 
Hume's  argument  is  directed. 

A  more  detailed  examination  of  Hume's  position 
will  show  that  he  assumes,  as  the  two  elemental 
units  of  thought,  impressions  and  ideas;  the  impres- 
sion is  the  actually  experienced  sense  perception,  the 
idea  is  the  memory  image  of  it.  This  twofold  source 
of  knowledge  is  reducible  at  the  last  analysis  to  one 
simply,  inasmuch  as  every  idea  may  be  traced  to 
some  original  sense  impression.  This  is  substantially 
the  presupposition  which  marks  the  beginning  of 
the  Lockian  theory  of  knowledge.     The  origin  of 

*  Huxley,  David  Hume,  p.  58. 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  89 

all  thought,  therefore,  is  narrowed  in  its  scope  to  a 
bare  appearance — that  particular  object  of  knowl- 
edge as  it  shows  itself  in  consciousness.  Hume  is 
most  emphatic  in  his  opinion  that  while  the  thought 
ranges  within  these  limits,  it  will  avoid  confusion 
and  error.  The  phenomenal  world  is  his  sole  con- 
cern. "As  long  as  we  confine  our  speculations  to 
the  appearances  of  objects  to  our  senses  without 
entering  into  disquisitions  concerning  their  real  na- 
ture and  operations,  we  are  safe  from  all  difficulties, 
and  can  never  be  embarrass'd  by  any  question.  .  .  . 
The  appearances  of  objects  to  our  senses  are  all 
consistent;  and  no  difficulties  can  ever  arise,  but 
from  the  obscurity  of  the  terms  we  make  use  of.  If 
we  carry  our  inquiry  beyond  the  appearances  of  ob- 
jects to  the  senses  I  am  afraid  that  most  of  our  con- 
clusions will  be  full  of  scepticism  and  uncertainty."  ^ 

To  this  restricted  area  Hume  would  confine  all 
excursions  of  the  intellect  with  an  unvarying  logical 
consistency.  And  in  this  respect  his  argument  is 
conspicuously  free  from  all  the  naive  assumptions 
and  unwitting  inconsequence  which  emerge  in  the 
course  both  of  Locke's  and  Berkeley's  attempts  to 
construct  a  systematic  body  of  knowledge  out  of  the 
elemental  units  of  sense  perception. 

Hume  insists  that  every  idea  which  lays  claim  to 
recognition  in  our  thinking  must  be  assessed  accord- 
ing to  a  certain  fundamental  standard  of  criticism. 
Moreover,  the  general  principle  of  criticism  to  which 
all  his  ideas  must  be  submitted  is  the  direct  outcome 
of  his  central  doctrine  concerning  the  ultimate  source 
of  all  knowledge.  This  principle  is  that  no  simple 
idea  can  be  allowed  in  thought  which  cannot  show  at 

^  A  Treatise  of  Human   Nature,    vol.  I,  p.    368,  footnote.     (Refer- 
ences to  Hume's  works  are  to  the  edition  of  Green  and  Grose.) 


90  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

its  face  value  some  original  impression.  This  is  the 
single  standard  according  to  which  every  idea  enter- 
tained by  the  mind  must  be  eventually  redeemable.^ 

If  it  is  not,  the  idea  in  question  must  rank  merely 
as  a  fancy  of  the  imagination,  or  as  some  deposit 
in  the  mind  of  traditional  superstition  or  inherited 
prejudice.  Any  complex  idea,  being  reducible  to  its 
lowest  terms  in  a  number  of  simple  ideas,  must  be 
subjected  at  the  last  analysis  to  a  similar  test.  Hume's 
analytical  method  of  criticism,  therefore,  is  a  process 
of  reduction  to  elemental  parts,  and  these  in  turn 
are  to  be  traced  to  their  original  source  in  the  vari- 
ous sense  impressions.  Moreover,  inasmuch  as  each 
simple  impression  represents  a  separate  particular  el- 
ement of  experience,  it  can  have  no  reference  beyond 
itself.  Therefore  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  any 
connecting  bond  of  cause  and  effect  relation  among 
our  several  impressions,  or  any  underlying  substance 
other  than  the  bare  impression  itself.  These  are  the 
two  points  of  incidence  upon  which  the  force  of 
Hume's  negative  criticism  is  concentrated — the  ideas 
of  causation  and  of  substance.  As  to  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect,  Hume  insists  that  our  various  per- 
ceptions are  all  distinct  existences,  entirely  "loose  and 
separate,"  and  that  the  mind  experiences  them  as 
detached  elements  and  therefore  can  never  discover 
any  real  connection  among  such  distinct  existences.^ 

"Tho  '  certain  sensations,"  Hume  maintains,  "may 
at  one  time  be  united,  we  quickly  find  they  admit 
of  a  separation,  and  may  be  presented  apart."  ^ 

He  declares,  moreover,  that  reason  is  powerless  to 
justify  the  conception  of  power  or  efficiency  such  as 
that  which   is   contained   in  the   popular  notion  of 

^  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  vol.  I,  p.  313  #. 

« lb.,  vol.  I,  p.  559.  *  lb.,  vol.  I,  p.  370. 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  91 

causation.  For  reason  is  never  creative;  it  cannot 
give  birth  to  any  idea  which  is  not  first  suppHed  to  it 
as  an  original  sense  impression,  and  no  sense  impres- 
sion gives  any  idea  of  power.  If  the  idea  of  power  or 
efficiency  is  not  in  the  original  impression,  it  can- 
not be  reached  through  any  process  of  abstraction 
which  may  be  applied  to  a  group  of  impressions 
often  repeated.  Hume  in  this  respect  shares  Berke- 
ley's deeply  rooted  antipathy  to  abstract  ideas.* 

"From  the  mere  repetition  of  any  past  impression, 
even  to  infinity,  there  never  will  arise  any  new  original 
idea,  such  as  that  of  a  necessary  connexion;  and  the 
number  of  impressions  has  in  this  case  no  more  effect 
than  if  we  confined  ourselves  to  one  only."  ^ 

Naturally  the  question  will  suggest  itself,  Whence 
comes  this  idea  of  "necessary  connexion"  which  the 
common  mind  seems  constrained  to  assume  in  all 
relations  of  cause  and  effect .?  Hume  would  reply, 
This  is  not  an  idea  logically  grounded  at  all.  Its 
warrant  is  solely  psychological;  that  is,  the  result  of 
an  inveterate  habit,  or  custom,  of  passing  in  thought 
from  one  of  two  correlatives  to  the  ofeher.  We  bind 
together  the  related  experiences  in  our  minds,  but  the 
tie  is  one  of  convenience  and  not  of  necessity.  This 
manner  of  seeing  things  together  is  due  to  an  essen- 
tially unreasoning  and  unreasonable  habit  of  mind. 
"We  have  already  taken  notice  of  certain  relations," 
says  Hume,  "which  make  us  pass  from  one  object  to 
another,  even  tho'  there  be  no  reason  to  determine 
us  to  that  transition;  ^  and  this  we  may  establish  for 
a  general  rule,  that  wherever  the  mind  constantly 

'  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  vol.  I,  p.  325/. 

2  lb.,  vol.  I,  p.  389. 

3  The  relations  referred  to  are  those  which  arise  through  association  of 
ideas. 


92  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

and  uniformly  makes  a  transition  without  any  reason, 
it  is  influenc'd  by  these  relations.  Now  this  is  exactly 
the  present  case.  Reason  can  never  show  us  the 
connection  of  one  object  with  another,  tho'  aided 
by  experience,  and  the  observation  of  their  constant 
conjunction  in  all  past  instances.  When  the  mind, 
therefore,  passes  from  the  idea  or  impression  of  one 
object  to  the  idea  or  beHef  of  another,  it  is  not  de- 
termin'd  by  reason  but  by  certain  principles,  which 
associate  together  the  ideas  of  these  objects  and 
unite  them  in  the  imagination."  ^ 

In  Hume's  doctrine  concerning  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect,  there  is  thus  a  complete  transference 
of  the  source  of  the  causal  idea  from  the  sphere  of 
the  reason  to  that  of  the  imagination.  He  regards 
the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  as  so  mysterious  that 
it  is  wholly  beyond  the  capacity  of  the  human  intellect 
to  discover  the  secret  of  its  hidden  meaning.  Inas- 
much as  thought  is  capable  of  observing  only  the 
superficial  phenomena  of  a  constant  conjunction  it  is 
not  warranted  in  inferring  an  inner  and  necessary 
connection.  "  Perhaps  'twill  appear  in  the  end," 
Hume  very  shrewdly  suggests,  "  that  the  necessary 
connexion  depends  on  the  inference,  instead  of  the 
inference's  depending  on  the  necessary  connexion."  ^ 

However  this  may  be,  Hume  would  have  us  appre- 
ciate this  at  least,  that  our  minds  play  only  upon  the 
surface  of  the  causal  problem.  We  never  "bottom" 
it,  to  use  a  phrase  of  Locke.  What  causes  the  stone 
to  fall  to  the  earth  ?  or  the  tides  to  ebb  and  flow  .?  or 
what  holds  the  planet  to  its  orbit  ?  Reason  may 
describe  the  phenomena  to  the  last  degree  of  scientific 
exactitude,  and  may  determine  the  proximate  ante- 
cedent in  each  specific  case,  but  it  can  discover  no 

*  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  vol.  I,  p.  392/.  ^  lb.,  p.  389. 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  93 

adequate  explanation  of  the  ultimate  nature  of  the 
phenomena  themselves.  The  mind  expects  in  a 
blind  unreasoning  way  that  things  will  happen  in  the 
future  as  in  the  past.  The  imagination  quickens  this 
feeling  of  expectancy;  but  the  attempt  of  reason  to 
justify  it  is  wholly  futile.  It  cannot  exhibit  the 
modus  operandi  of  the  action  of  a  cause  in  producing 
its  effect,  even  though  in  its  simplest  form  of  mani- 
festation. The  habit  of  mind  which  relates  experi- 
ences as  cause  and  effect  is  a  customary  mode  of 
viewing  things  which  is  fostered  by  the  imagination. 
Customary  things  do  not  seem  to  need  explanation. 
Their  very  commonplace  nature  tends  to  conceal 
their  mystery.  We  accept  them  as  a  matter  of  course, 
but  when  we  are  challenged  by  a  more  exacting  de- 
mand to  furnish  some  adequate  explanation  of  them 
in  reason,  we  then  begin  to  appreciate  how  superficial 
is  our  ordinary  attitude  of  mind,  and  what  meagre 
results  seem  to  satisfy  our  inquiring  disposition. 

The  concept  of  substance  receives  a  similar  treat- 
ment at  Hume's  hands.  Not  only  is  there  no  neces- 
sary bond  of  connection  between  the  various  objects 
which  from  time  to  time  appear  in  the  field  of  con- 
sciousness; but  there  is  none  also  between  the  differ- 
ent qualities  which  coinhere  in  one  and  the  same 
object.  They  are  likewise  separate  and  distinct  ap- 
pearances. No  cohesive  bond  really  holds  them  to- 
gether. The  proof  of  this  is  the  simple  application 
of  Hume's  general  principle  of  interpretation,  namely, 
that  we  are  not  entitled  in  reason  to  assume  the 
reality  of  any  idea  of  which  there  is  not  an  original 
impression  corresponding  to  it.  This  is  the  touch- 
stone of  all  critical  inquiry.  Applying  it  to  the  idea 
of  substance,  it  at  once  vanishes.  "I  wou'd  fain 
ask  those  philosophers,"  says  Hume,  "who  found  so 


94  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

much  of  their  reasonings  on  the  distinction  of  sub- 
stance and  accident  (that  is,  the  property  of  a  sub- 
stance) and  imagine  we  have  clear  ideas  of  each, 
whether  the  idea  of  substance  be  deriv'd  from  the 
impressions  of  sensation,  or  of  reflection  ?  If  it  be 
convey'd  to  us  by  our  senses,  I  ask  which  of  them; 
and  after  what  manner  ?  If  it  be  perceiv'd  by  the 
eyes,  it  must  be  a  colour;  if  by  the  ears,  a  sound;  if 
by  the  palate,  a  taste;  and  so  of  the  other  senses. 
But  I  believe  none  will  assert  that  substance  is  either 
a  colour,  or  sound,  or  taste.  The  idea  of  substance 
must  therefore  be  deriv'd  from  an  impression  of 
reflection,  if  it  really  exists.  But  the  impressions 
of  reflection  resolve  themselves  into  our  passions  and 
emotions;  none  of  which  can  possibly  represent  a 
substance.  We  have  therefore  no  idea  of  substance 
distinct  from  that  of  a  collection  of  particular  quali- 
ties, nor  have  we  any  other  meaning  when  we  either 
talk  or  reason  concerning  it.  The  idea  of  substance 
as  well  as  that  of  a  mode  (/.  e.y  a  complex  idea  com- 
posed of  a  number  of  simple  qualities  variously 
modified)  is  nothing  but  a  collection  of  simple  ideas, 
that  are  united  by  the  imagination,  and  have  a  par- 
ticular name  assigned  them,  by  which  we  are  able  to 
recall,  either  to  ourselves  or  others  that  collection."  ^ 
According  to  such  an  extremely  nominalistic  view 
as  this,  the  substantial  bond  uniting  together  the 
various  separate  qualities  of  any  object,  and  consti- 
tuting a  single  distinct  thing,  exists  alone  in  the 
imagination.  The  idea  of  substance  furnishes  a  con- 
venient way  of  regarding  the  different  objects  of  con- 
sciousness; but  the  substantial  as  well  as  the  causal 
connections  are  both  alike  of  subjective  origin  and 
import. 

'  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature^  p.  324. 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  95 

So  far,  Hume  is  in  accord  with  Berkeley.  But 
Hume  carries  his  argument  a  step  further.  He 
would  likewise  do  away  with  the  idea  of  spiritual 
substance.  Berkeley's  belief  in  the  existence  of  a 
spiritual  substance  behind  the  world  of  phenomenal 
appearance  was  based  upon  his  conviction  as  to  the 
substantial  reality  of  an  abiding  self  amidst  the  ever- 
varying  changes  of  one's  conscious  life.  As  there  is 
the  direct  evidence  of  consciousness  as  to  the  reality 
of  a  spiritual  self  underlying  the  activities  and  phenom- 
ena of  our  mental  life,  so  also  the  idea  of  a  spiritual 
self  in  turn  affords  us  an  intimation  of  the  reality  of 
a  spiritual  substance  underlying  the  phenomena  of 
nature,  and  making  them  known  to  us  through  the 
varied  operations  of  the  senses.  Hume  declares  \ 
that  all  suppositions  such  as  these  of  Berkeley  must 
be  regarded  as  wholly  gratuitous.  He  strikes  at 
the  very  heart  of  Berkeley's  belief  in  a  spiritual 
substance,  by  repudiating  most  vehemently  all  evi- 
dence adduced  for  the  existence  of  any  central  self, 
separate  and  distinct  from  the  constantly  accom- 
panying impressions,  of  which  the  ever-moving 
stream  of  consciousness  is  completely  and  exclu- 
sively composed.  Among  the  phenomena  of  the 
mind,  therefore,  there  is  no  occasion  or  place  for 
anything  but  the  transient  play  of  shifting  impres- 
sions. Hume's  doctrine  of  the  self  is  so  character- 
istic of  the  extreme  and  radical  nature  of  his  nega- 
tive criticism  that  I  venture  to  quote  from  it  in  this 
connection  somewhat  at  length: 

"There  are  some  philosophers  who  imagine  we  are 
every  moment  intimately  conscious  of  what  we  call 
our  Self;  that  we  feel  its  existence  and  its  continuance 
in  existence;  and  are  certain,  beyond  the  evidence  of 
a  demonstration,  both  of  its  perfect  identity  and  sim- 


96  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

plicity.  The  strongest  sensation,  the  most  violent 
passion  say  they,  instead  of  distracting  us  from  this 
view,  only  fix  it  the  more  intensely,  and  make  us  con- 
sider their  influence  on  self  either  by  their  pain  or 
pleasure.  To  attempt  a  farther  proof  of  this  w^ere 
to  weaken  its  evidence;  since  no  proof  can  be  de- 
riv'd  from  any  fact  of  which  we  are  so  intimately 
conscious;  nor  is  there  anything  of  which  we  can 
be  certain,  if  we  doubt  of  this. 

"Unluckily  all  these  positive  assertions  are  con- 
trary to  that  very  experience,  which  is  pleaded  for 
them,  nor  have  we  any  idea  of  self,  after  the  manner 
it  is  here  explain'd.  For  from  what  impression 
cou'd  this  idea  be  deriv'd  .?  This  question  'tis  im- 
possible to  answer  without  a  manifest  contradiction 
and  absurdity;  and  yet  'tis  a  question,  which  must 
necessarily  be  answer'd,  if  we  wou'd  have  the  idea 
of  self  pass  for  clear  and  intelligible.  It  must  be 
some  one  impression  that  gives  rise  to  every  real 
idea.  But  self  or  person  is  not  any  one  impression, 
but  that  to  which  our  several  impressions  and  ideas 
are  suppos'd  to  have  a  reference.  If  any  impression 
gives  rise  to  the  idea  of  self,  that  impression  must 
continue  invariably  the  same,  thro'  the  whole  course 
of  our  lives;  since  self  is  suppos'd  to  exist  after  that 
manner.  But  there  is  no  impression  constant  and 
invariable.  Pain  and  pleasure,  grief  and  joy,  pas- 
sions and  sensations  succeed  each  other,  and  never 
all  exist  at  the  same  time.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be 
from  any  of  these  impressions,  or  from  any  other, 
that  the  idea  of  self  is  deriv'd;  and  consequently 
there  is  no  such  idea. 

"But,  farther,  what  must  become  of  all  our  par- 
ticular perceptions  upon  this  hypothesis  .?  All  these 
are  different,  and  distinguishable,  and  separable  frorr 


HUME'S   SCEPTICISM  97 

each  other,  and  may  be  separately  consider'd,  and 
may  exist  separately,  and  have  no  need  of  anything 
to  support  their  existence.  After  what  manner, 
therefore,  do  they  belong  to  self;  and  how  are  they 
connected  with  it  ?  For  my  part,  when  I  enter  most 
intimately  into  what  I  call  myself^  I  always  stumble 
on  some  particular  perception  or  other,  of  heat  or 
cold,  light  or  shade,  love  or  hatred,  pain  or  pleasure. 
I  never  catch  myself  at  any  time  without  a  percep- 
tion, and  never  can  observe  anything  but  the  per- 
ception. When  my  perceptions  are  remov'd  for  any 
time,  as  by  sound  sleep,  so  long  am  I  insensible  of 
myself,  and  may  truly  be  said  not  to  exist.  And 
were  all  my  perceptions  remov'd  by  death,  andcou'd 
I  neither  think,  nor  feel,  nor  see,  nor  love,  nor  hate 
after  the  dissolution  of  my  body,  I  shou'd  be  entirely 
annihilated,  nor  do  I  conceive  what  is  farther  requi- 
site to  make  me  a  perfect  non-entity.  If  any  one, 
upon  serious  and  unprejudic'd  reflection,  thinks  he 
has  a  different  notion  of  himself,  I  must  confess  I 
can  reason  no  longer  with  him.  All  I  can  allow 
him  is,  that  he  may  be  in  the  right  as  well  as  I,  and 
that  we  are  essentially  different  in  this  particular. 
He  may,  perhaps,  perceive  something  simple  and 
continu'd,  which  he  calls  himself;  tho'  I  am  certain 
there  is  no  such  principle  in  me."  * 

This  then  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter — 
no  causation,  no  substance,  no  self;  our  world  of 
knowledge  not  a  world  at  all,  only  a  collection  of 
separate  and  distinct  phenomena,  and  not  a  body 
of  interrelated  parts;  a  group,  but  not  a  system; 
many  elements,  but  not  a  totality;  many  organs,  but 
not  an  organism;  ordered  throughout  by  the  com- 
pulsion of  fancy,  but  not  by  the  constraint  of  reason. 

'  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  p.  533  /. 


98  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Exposed  to  this  searching  analysis,  Berkeley's  world 
fades  away  as  well  as  Locke's.  Nothing  which  can 
claim  any  substantial  reality  remains. 

The  question  naturally  suggests  itself,  Do  results 
of  so  negative  a  character  prove  merely  the  futility 
of  philosophy  ?  They  do  most  certainly,  if  we  are 
content  to  rest  philosophy's  case  at  this  point.  How- 
ever, by  the  very  nature  of  their  sweeping  negations, 
the  result  of  Hume's  argument  suggests  to  the  in- 
quiring mind  the  possibility  that  the  premises  of 
which  they  are  the  logical  conclusion  may  be  sub- 
jected with  profit  to  a  more  thorough  re-examina- 
tion. If  the  outcome  of  Hume's  criticism  does  not 
direct  our  thought  forward,  it  at  least  will  serve  to 
point  it  backward.  This  regressive  process  of  criti- 
cism Hume  himself  never  attempted.  It  is  possible, 
however,  and  it  may  prove  profitable  as  well,  to 
intimate,  in  broad  outline  at  least,  this  return  of 
thought  to  the  beginnings  of  Hume's  argument. 

Starting  with  impressions,  naked  and  isolated, 
each  complete  and  sufficient  in  its  own  separate  exis- 
tence, with  no  reference  to  anything  beyond  itself, 
unconnected  and  unrelated,  with  no  implication  of 
objective  reality  or  subjective  certitude — from  such 
dead  and  barren  premises  is  it  possible  to  expect  in 
the  conclusion  a  full  and  living  content  ?  And  this 
is  pre-eminently  the  service  of  Hume,  that  by  the 
subtle  processes  of  keen  analysis  he  demonstrated 
the  wholly  inadequate  nature  of  these  detached  units 
of  knowledge.  If  that  which  is  wanting  cannot  be 
supplied,  then  Hume's  scepticism  must  ever  remain 
the  last  word  of  philosophy. 

The  reason  that  Hume  did  not  discern  the  in- 
adequacy of  his  own  premises  was  that  he  did 
not    appreciate    the    complete    significance    of    his 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  99 

fundamental  principle  of  interpretation;  and  there- 
fore failed  to  see  that  it  might  be  significantly 
applied  to  his  own  argument.  I  refer  to  the  doc- 
trine which  he  had  received  with  such  enthusiasm 
from  Berkeley,  namely,  the  repudiation  of  all  ab- 
stract ideas  in  the  processes  of  reasoning.  His  own 
philosophical  procedure,  however,  is  not  above  re- 
proach in  this  particular.  For  it  is  based  on  the 
most  abstract  of  abstractions,  namely,  the  existence 
of  detached,  unconnected,  unrelated  impressions.  In 
other  words,  he  regards  each  impression  apart  from 
its  concrete  setting.  Hume's  simple  impression, 
which  plays  such  an  important  and  conspicuous 
role  in  his  discussion,  is  abstract  in  the  extreme; 
and  as  such  ranks  as  a  psychological  fiction  of  the 
first  order.  No  such  simple  impression,  unrelated 
and  unconnected,  ever  appears  in  the  field  of  con- 
sciousness. Hume  in  this  respect  falls  into  the  same 
error  that  Locke  did.  The  truth  is  that  every  im- 
pression, however  simple  it  may  seem,  is  exceedingly 
complex.  It  does  not  present  itself  to  us  in  any  way 
and  at  any  place  which  chance  or  fancy  may  direct, 
but  it  finds  its  proper  place  and  proclaims  its  pe- 
cuHar  significance  amidst  the  co-ordinate  elements 
of  that  great  body  of  knowledge  which  is  constantly 
sustained  and  ordered  by  the  constructive  activity 
of  the  mind.  Hume's  doctrine  that  all  abstract  ideas 
possess  a  radically  misleading  character  is,  in  fact, 
a  two-edged  sword  of  criticism.  With  him  it  cuts 
but  the  one  way;  however  we  may  quite  as  well  turn 
its  other  edge  against  his  own  argument.  He  cuts 
away  the  idea  of  a  self  separate  from  and  underly- 
ing our  several  impressions.  He  insists  that  he  can 
never  find  himself  without  an  accompanying  impres- 
sion as  a  necessary  setting.     On  the  other  hand,  we 


100  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

jmay  with  equal  cogency  insist  that  there  is  never 
:  a  consciousness  of  any  impression  whatsoever  with- 
!  out  the  idea  of  self  implicit  in  it.  It  is  the  constant 
and  persistent  element  in  every  experience.  Again, 
Hume  urges  that  we  never  experience  a  simple  im- 
pression of  power  or  of  efficacy  itself;  on  the  other 
hand,  it  may  be  argued  also  that  the  relation  which 
we  commonly  call  causal  never  appears  apart  from 
some  idea  of  power  or  of  efficacy  suggested  by  it 
and  indissolubly  connected  with  it.  So  also,  while 
the  impression  of  substance  is  never  given  in  con- 
sciousness as  a  separate  experience  apart  from  the 
accompanying  qualities  characteristic  of  the  observed 
object,  likewise  the  constant  group  of  co-ordinated 
qualities  appearing  together  cannot  be  observed 
apart  from  the  single  substantial  object  in  which 
these  collective  qualities  seem  to  inhere. 

Considerations  such  as  these  lead  us  to  conclude 
that  Hume  is  not  entitled  to  his  bare  abstraction  of 
a  simple  unrelated  impression  as  the  unit  of  knowl- 
edge. No  psychological  analysis,  however  subtle, 
can  ever  reveal  it.  Therefore  with  a  fiction  for  its 
foundation,  the  superstructure  which  is  built  upon 
it  must  fall  of  its  own  weight. 

Again,  there  is  an  unwarrantable  abstraction  in 
Hume's  separation  of  the  function  of  the  imagina- 
tion from  that  of  the  intellect.  The  compulsion  of 
thought  which  we  feel  in  passing  from  an  observed 
antecedent  to  a  lively  expectation  of  a  definite  result 
which  we  think  will  inevitably  follow  from  it,  Hume 
refers  to  the  offices  of  the  imagination,  and  not  of  the 
reason.  "When  the  mind,  therefore,  passes  from 
the  idea  or  impression  of  one  object  to  the  idea  or 
behef  of  another,  it  is  not  determin'd  by  reason,  but 
by  certain  principles,  which  associate  together  the 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  101 

ideas  of  these  objects,  and  unite  them  in  the  im- 
agination. Had  ideas  no  more  union  in  the  fancy 
than  objects  seem  to  have  to  the  understanding,  we 
cou'd  never  draw  any  inference  from  causes  to  ef- 
fects, nor  repose  behef  in  any  matter  of  fact.  The 
influence,  therefore,  depends  solely  on  the  union  of 
ideas."  ^ 

The  imagination  and  reason,  however,  cannot  be 
properly  separated.  To  do  so  is  an  unwarrantable 
abstraction.  Not  only  is  there  no  natural  antithe- 
sis between  the  logical  processes  of  thought  and  the 
imagination,  but  the  logical  processes  of  thought 
are  themselves  dependent  upon  the  imagination  as  a 
necessary  auxiliary  to  their  proper  functioning.  In- 
ference is  essentially  a  process  of  ideal  construction. 
The  mind  supplies,  through  ideas  which  necessity 
suggests,  what  is  not  explicit  in  observation  or  the 
literal  content  of  the  given  premises,  but  what  never- 
theless is  present  implicitly.  It  is  peculiarly  the 
function  of  the  imagination  to  expand  what  is  actu- 
ally given,  and  in  this  manner  create  for  thought 
what  is  not  present  to  the  senses.  The  imagination 
in  its  working  function  is  essentially  a  logical  faculty; 
the  imagination  at  play,  however,  may  swing  clear  of 
logic  altogether  and  wander  unrestrained  in  the 
boundless  fields  of  fancy.  The  distinction  between 
the  imagination  at  play  and  the  imagination  in  the 
work  of  thought  is  this,  that  the  former  is  free  of  all 
control  save  that  of  whim  or  chance  suggestion; 
the  latter,  however,  owns  to  a  feeling  of  constraint 
that  commands  the  thought,  whether  we  will  or 
not. 

When  Hume  refers  the  feeling  of  compulsion  which 
the  memory  of  customary  relations  of  cause  and  effect 

*  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  p.  392  /. 


102  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

engenders,  to  the  imagination,  it  is  to  the  imagination 
in  its  working  capacity,  and  as  an  ally  in  co-operating 
with  the  activities  of  the  intellect.  In  other  words, 
there  is  a  thought  coefficient  in  such  a  function  of  the 
imagination  which  possesses  a  deep  significance  in 
the  theory  of  knowledge,  but  which  Hume,  however, 
wholly  fails  to  appreciate.  It  is  not  merely  that 
the  mind  passes  easily  from  one  idea  to  another 
associated  with  it,  by  the  aid  of  the  imagination,  but 
that  the  mind  is  conscious  that  in  certain  situations 
and  under  certain  conditions  it  must  so  pass.  And 
this  necessity  is  something  more  than  the  suggestion 
of  fancy  or  the  quickening  of  the  memory;  also  the 
laws  of  nature  are  something  more  than  "  an  unquali- 
fied habit  of  expectancy."  While  Hume  shows  no 
disposition  to  re-examine  the  foundations  of  his  scep- 
tical conclusions,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  not  wholly 
satisfied  with  the  negative  results  of  his  argument. 
True  to  his  temperament  and  habit  of  thought,  we 
find  him,  at  the  end  of  the  discussion  in  the  Treatise^ 
finally  sceptical  of  his  scepticism.  In  a  most  signifi- 
cant passage  in  the  Appendix  to  this  work,  Hume 
expresses  his  own  dissatisfaction  with  the  results  of 
his  inquiry.  He  says:  "Philosophers  begin  to  be 
reconcil'd  to  the  principle,  that  we  have  no  idea  of 
external  substance^  distinct  from  the  ideas  of  particular 
qualities.  This  must  pave  the  way  for  a  like  prin- 
ciple with  regard  to  the  mind,  that  we  have  no  notion 
of  it,  distinct  from  the  particular  perceptions.  So  far 
I  seem  to  be  attended  with  sufficient  evidence.  But 
having  thus  loosen'd  all  our  particular  perceptions, 
when  I  proceed  to  explain  the  principle  of  connexion, 
which  binds  them  together,  and  makes  us  attribute 
to  them  a  real  simplicity  and  identity;  I  am  sensible 
that  my  account  is  very  defective,  and  that  nothing 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  103 

but  the  seeming  evidence  of  the  precedent  reasonings 
cou'd  have  induc'd  me  to  receive  it.  If  perceptions 
are  distinct  existences,  they  form  a  whole  only  by 
being  connected  together.  But  no  connexions  among 
distinct  existences  are  ever  discoverable  by  human 
understanding.  We  only  feel  a  connexion,  or  de- 
termination of  thought,  to  pass  from  one  object  to 
another.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  thought  alone 
finds  personal  identity,  when  reflecting  on  the  train 
of  past  perceptions  that  compose  a  mind,  the  ideas 
of  them  are  felt  to  be  connected  together,  and  natu- 
rally introduce  each  other.  However  extraordinary 
this  conclusion  may  seem,  it  need  not  surprize  us. 
Most  philosophers  seem  inclin'd  to  think  that  per- 
sonal identity  arises  from  consciousness;  and  con- 
sciousness is  nothing  but  a  reflected  thought  or  per- 
ception. The  present  philosophy,  therefore,  has  so 
far  a  promising  aspect.  But  all  my  hopes  vanish 
when  I  come  to  explain  the  principles  that  unite  our 
successive  perceptions  in  our  thought  or  conscious- 
ness. I  cannot  discover  any  theory  which  gives  me 
satisfaction  on  this  head. 

"In  short,  there  are  two  principles,  which  I  cannot 
render  consistent;  nor  is  it  in  my  power  to  renounce 
either  of  them,  viz. :  that  all  our  distinct  perceptions 
are  distinct  existences,  and  that  the  mind  never  per- 
ceives any  real  connexion  among  distinct  existences. 
Did  our  perceptions  either  inhere  in  something  simple 
and  individual,  or  did  the  mind  perceive  some  real 
connexion  among  them,  there  wou'd  be  no  difl&culty 
in  the  case.  For  my  part,  I  must  plead  the  privilege 
of  a  sceptic,  and  confess  that  this  diflSculty  is  too 
hard  for  my  understanding.  I  pretend  not,  how- 
ever, to  pronounce  it  absolutely  insuperable.  Others, 
perhaps,  or  myself,  upon  more  mature  reflections, 


104  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

may  discover  some  hypothesis  that  will  reconcile 
those  contradictions."  ^ 

In  this  frank  confession  Hume  evidently  appre- 
ciates the  unsatisfactory  character  of  the  results 
which  his  reasoning  had  reached.  His  view  of  the 
field  of  consciousness  is  that  of  a  screen  upon  which 
a  continuous  series  of  pictures  is  thrown.  In  spite 
of  the  ordered  arrangement  of  the  scenes  which  are 
presented,  and  their  seemingly  logical  sequence,  the 
fact  remains  that  each  is  separate  and  distinct,  and 
the  relations  which  they  sustain  one  to  another  for 
the  time  being  represent  no  real  connection  whatso- 
ever. This  stereopticon  view  of  our  sense-percep- 
tions, figured  on  the  screen  of  consciousness,  is  a  very 
fair  description  of  Hume's  doctrine  of  the  particu- 
larity of  the  several  simple  impressions  as  units  of 
knowledge.  But  such  a  view  is  not  satisfactory,  and 
Hume  himself  felt  it.  The  discrete  nature  of  the 
particular  elements  of  consciousness  does  not  appeal 
to  the  ordinary  observer  as  a  true  account  of  the 
intricately  woven  web  of  perceptions.  Hume  him- 
self concedes  this  indirectly  and  by  implication  at 
least. 

As  we  discovered  in  Berkeley  a  potential  element 
which  was  to  appear  in  its  fully  developed  form 
in  the  later  philosophy  of  Kant,  so  also  in  Hume  there 
are,  here  and  there,  significant  intimations  which 
suggest  a  solution  of  his  scepticism  and  show  that  it 
is  properly  to  be  regarded  as  a  transition  stage  in  a 
larger  movement  of  thought.  In  reference  to  the 
origin  of  the  idea  of  necessary  connexion  which 
seems  to  be  so  indissolubly  associated  in  our  minds 
with  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect,  and  which  is  the 
crux  of  the  perplexing  and  insoluble  problem,  as  it 

* /I  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  vol.  I,  p.  559/. 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  105 

presented  itself  to  Hume,  it  is  exceedingly  interesting 
to  note  that  Hume  himself  seems  vaguely  to  recog- 
nise the  necessity  of  assuming  a  definite  function  of 
thought  in  constructing  our  various  impressions  into 
an  intelligible  system.  A  conspicuous  illustration  of 
his  appreciation  of  this  synthetic  factor  in  knowledge 
is  contained  in  the  following  passage:  "Tho'  the 
several  resembling  instances,  which  give  rise  to  the 
idea  of  power,  have  no  influence  on  each  other,  and 
can  never  produce  any  new  quality  in  the  object  which 
can  be  the  model  of  that  idea,  yet  the  observation  of 
this  resemblance  produces  a  new  impression  in  the 
mind,  which  is  its  real  model.  For  after  we  have 
observ'd  the  resemblance  in  a  sufficient  number  of 
instances,  we  immediately  feel  a  determination  of  the 
mind  to  pass  from  one  object  to  its  usual  attendant, 
and  to  conceive  it  in  a  stronger  light  upon  account  of 
that  relation.  This  determination  is  the  only  eff'ect 
of  the  resemblance;  and  therefore  must  be  the  same 
with  power  or  efficacy,  whose  idea  is  deriv'd  from  the 
resemblance.  The  several  instances  of  resembling 
conjunctions  lead  us  into  the  notion  of  power  and 
necessity.  These  instances  are  in  themselves  totally 
distinct  from  each  other,  and  have  no  union  but  in  the 
mind,  which  observes  them,  and  collects  their  ideas. 
Necessity,  then,  is  the  eff'ect  of  this  observation,  and 
is  nothing  but  an  internal  impression  of  the  mind,  or 
a  determination  to  carry  our  thoughts  from  one  object 
to  another."  * 

This  element  of  necessity  as  a  thought  determina- 
tion was  never  developed  by  Hume,  and  evidently 
he  failed  to  appreciate,  in  any  adequate  manner,  its 
significance  for  the  theory  of  knowledge.  Its  latent 
possibilities,  therefore,  remained  undiscovered  until 

>  A  Treatise  oj  Human  Nature,  p.  459. 


106  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

they  developed  under  the  more  profound  criticism  of 
Kant,  and  became  the  foundation  of  his  system  of 
knowledge. 

In  the  paragraph  just  quoted  it  is  obvious  that 
Hume's  natural  tendency  is  to  refer  thought,  and  the 
object  of  thought,  to  two  distinct  and  separate  spheres. 
And  this  again  is  the  result  of  his  habit  of  mind  to 
force  his  ideas  to  an  undue  degree  of  abstraction. 
This  separating,  particularising  process  influences  all 
of  his  thinking.  But  the  object  of  thought  cannot 
be  thus  isolated.  It  can  appear  in  consciousness  only 
as  thought  related  in  a  setting  of  thought,  and  ren- 
dered significant  by  its  thought  determinations.  To 
separate  thought  and  its  object  by  an  artificial  proc- 
ess of  abstraction  is  simply  to  drive  out  the  inner 
spirit  by  destroying  the  outer  body.  Surely  there 
must  be  some  fundamental  basis  of  co-ordination  be- 
tween the  world  of  observation  and  the  observing 
mind,  so  that  whatever  is  a  necessity  of  thought  is  an 
implication  of  the  nature  of  reality  as  well. 

There  is  another  significant  passage  which  in  a  way 
is  an  unconscious  prophecy  of  that  Copernican  revo- 
lution in  philosophy  which  Kant  was  shortly  to  effect, 
and  that,  indeed,  not  wholly  without  the  influence 
which  Hume  himself  exerted  upon  this  new  order  of 
thinking:  "But  tho'  this  be  the  only  reasonable  ac- 
count we  can  give  of  necessity,  the  contrary  notion 
is  so  riveted  in  the  mind  from  the  principles  above 
mention'd,  that  I  doubt  not  but  my  sentiments  will 
be  treated  by  many  as  extravagant  and  ridiculous. 
What!  the  efllicacy  of  causes  lie  in  the  determination 
of  the  mind!  As  if  causes  did  not  operate  entirely 
independent  of  the  mind,  and  wou'd  not  continue 
their  operation,  even  tho'  there  was  no  mind  existent 
to   contemplate   them,   or   reason   concerning  them. 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  107 

Thought  may  well  depend  on  causes  for  its  opera- 
tion, but  not  causes  on  thought.  This  is  to  reverse 
the  order  of  nature,  and  make  that  secondary  which 
is  really  primary.  To  every  operation  there  is  a 
power  proportion'd;  and  this  power  must  be  plac'd 
on  the  body,  that  operates.  If  we  remove  the  power 
from  one  cause,  we  must  ascribe  it  to  another.  But 
to  remove  it  from  all  causes,  and  bestow  it  on  a  being 
that  is  no  ways  related  to  the  cause  or  effect,  but  by 
perceiving  them,  is  a  gross  absurdity,  and  contrary 
to  the  most  certain  principles  of  human  reason. 

"I  can  only  reply  to  all  these  arguments,  that  the 
case  is  here  much  the  same,  as  if  a  blind  man  shou'd 
pretend  to  find  a  great  many  absurdities  in  the  sup- 
position, that  the  colour  of  scarlet  is  not  the  same 
with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  nor  light  the  same  with 
solidity."  ^ 

Hume  was  evidently  far  on  the  way  toward  a  re- 
adjustment of  his  earlier  empirical  principles  to  the 
logical  requirements  of  his  later  insight.  The  illu- 
mination, however,  which  his  thought  experienced  in 
this  particular  was  due  to  certain  fitful  flashes  and 
not  to  any  steady  glow  of  light.  Had  Hume  suffi- 
ciently appreciated  the  significance  of  this  "determi- 
nation of  the  mind"  in  all  of  its  bearings — and  he 
would  have  appreciated  it  fully,  if  he  had  brought 
his  keen  analysis  to  play  upon  it — not  only  would  he 
have  prepared  the  way  for  the  philosophy  of  Kant, 
but  he  would  have  anticipated  it  as  well.  The  fac- 
ulty of  reason  which  he  employed  so  brilliantly  as  an 
instrument  of  thought,  he  failed  to  appreciate  ade- 
quately as  regards  its  essentially  constructive  capac- 
ity. Before  Hume's  perplexities  could  be  cleared 
and  his  scepticism  resolved,  it  was  necessary  that 

^  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  p.  461  /. 


108  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

another  should  undertake  the  difficult  but  reward- 
ing task  of  the  critique  of  the  pure  reason.  Hume's 
method  of  destructive  analysis  proves  too  much. 
His  very  mental  prov^ess  refutes  him.  Green  clev- 
erly gives  his  estimate  of  Hume  and  his  work  in 
this  particular:  "Unless  man  had  consciously  de- 
tached himself  from  nature,  no  Treatise  on  Human 
Nature  could  have  been  written.  He  would  not 
be  trying  to  account  to  himself  for  his  own  moral 
life,  even  by  reducing  it  to  a  natural  one;  would  not 
be  asking  what  nature  is  to  him,  or  he  to  nature,  if 
he  were  merely  the  passive  receptacle  of  natural 
impressions,  and  not  at  the  same  time  constructive 
and  free."  ^ 

However  inconsistent,  therefore,  and  unsatisfying 
Hume's  scepticism  may  be  when  regarded  as  a  per- 
manent attitude  of  mind,  nevertheless  it  possesses 
a  deep  significance  for  one  who  is  seeking  to  un- 
derstand the  progressive  movement  of  philosophical 
thought  in  the  eighteenth  century.  By  showing  con- 
clusively that  the  Lockian  account  of  the  sources 
of  knowledge,  and  the  process  of  its  development, 
lead  by  an  inevitable  logic  to  a  negative  position  of 
unqualified  scepticism,  Hume  incites  in  an  inquiring 
mind  the  desire  to  seek  a  more  profound  and  secure 
basis  for  the  foundations  of  knowledge. 

This  is  precisely  the  effect  which  the  writings 
of  Hume  produced  in  the  mind  of  Thomas  Reid 
(1710-96),  the  contemporary  and  fellow-countryman 
of  Hume  and  the  founder  of  the  Scottish  School 
of  Philosophy.  In  his  principal  work.  Inquiry 
into  the  Human  Mind  on  the  Principles  of  Com- 
mon Sense,  Reid  gives  an  account  of  the  influence 
which    Hume   had   exerted    upon   his   philosophical 

'  Green's  Philosophical  Works,  vol.  Ill,  p.  112. 


HUME'S  SCEPTICISM  109 

point  of  view.  Originally  a  follower  of  Locke  and 
Berkeley,  Reid  had  been  led  by  a  study  of  the  Treat- 
ise to  discern  the  dangerous  consequences  directly 
resulting  from  the  fundamental  presuppositions  of 
Locke.  According  to  Reid,  Hume's  analysis  is  a 
revelation  of  the  weakness  of  Locke's  position,  and 
consequently  calls  for  a  serious  re-examination  of 
the  ground  upon  which  his  philosophy  rests.  Reid 
asserts  that  Locke's  explanation  of  the  beginnings 
of  knowledge  is  not  true  to  experience,  and  that 
therefore  on  purely  empirical  grounds  it  will  not 
pass  muster.  Our  knowledge  does  not  start  with 
ideas  which  are  passively  received  through  sensation, 
but  with  judgments;  and  these  judgments  imply  cer- 
tain first  principles,  or  "natural  judgments,"  which 
are  a  common  possession  of  mankind  by  virtue  of 
the  faculty  of  common  sense.  Thus  Reid  introduces 
the  metaphysic  of  common  sense  at  the  very  begin- 
nings of  knowledge,  which  imparts  to  the  elements 
of  sensory  experience  a  principle  of  organisation  as 
well  as  a  principle  of  reference  to  a  world  of  reality. 
Such  principles  possess  naturally  a  quality  of  uni- 
versality and  of  necessity  which  sense  alone  cannot 
give.  Hume  stimulated  the  thought  of  Reid  to  the 
point  of  a  natural  reaction  from  the  final  position  of 
scepticism  in  much  the  same  way  as  he  stimulated 
the  philosophical  inquiry  of  Kant.  Kant  and  Reid, 
in  fact,  have  much  in  common  not  only  in  their  gen- 
eral point  of  view,  but  in  the  endeavour  of  each  to 
supply  the  essential  principles  of  constructive  reason 
to  the  scattered  elements  of  the  empirical  philosophy.* 
Having  traced  this  movement  of  thought  from  its 
starting-point  in  the  Essay  of  Locke,  through  the 

'  See  Andrew  Seth  Pringle-Pattison,  On  the  Scotch  Philosophy,  chap.  IV, 
"  Reid  and  Kant." 


no  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

idealism  of  Berkeley,  to  the  scepticism  of  Hume,  it 
will  be  of  interest,  both  in  itself  and  also  by  way  of 
contrast,  to  consider  the  rise  and  growth  of  that 
materialistic  doctrine  which  is  to  be  referred  to  the 
same  source  in  the  presuppositions  of  the  Lockian 
theory  of  knowledge.* 

References. — R.  Adamson:  The  Development  of  Modern  Philos- 
ophy, vol.  I.     Edinburgh,  1903. 

J.  H.  Burton:  Life  and  Correspondence  of  David  Hume.  Edin- 
burgh, 1846. 

T.  H.  Green :  Introduction  to  Hunters  Treatise  of  Human  Nature. 
Greenes  Works,  vol.  I.     London,  1885. 

Green  and  Grose:   Edition  of  Hume's  Works.     London,  1874. 

William  Knight:  Hume.  {Philosophical  Classics  for  English  Read- 
ers.)    Edinburgh,  1886. 

Professor  Huxley:  Hume.  {English  Men  of  Letters  Series.)  Lon- 
don, 1902. 

James  McCosh:  Scottish  Philosophy.  London,  1875.  New  York, 
1890. 

A.  S.  Pringle-Pattison:  On  the  Scottish  Philosophy.  Edinburgh, 
1885. 

E.  Pfleiderer:  Empirismus  und  Skepsis  in  David  Hume's  Philos- 
ophie.     Berlin,  1874. 

M.  H.  Calkins:  Persistent  Problems  in  Philosophy.     N.  Y.,  1907. 

'  ''  In  this  account  of  Hume,  I  have  referred  throughout  to  passage? 
from  the  Treatise.  I  am  not  unaware  that  as  regards  Hume's  later 
work,  the  Enquiry  Concerning  Human  Understanding,  which  is  a  repro- 
duction of  the  Treatise,  extensively  modified  and  condensed,  the  author 
insists  that  "  it  alone  contains  his  philosophical  sentiments  and  princi- 
ples." However,  the  Enquiry  does  not  contain  any  repudiation  of  the 
original  principles  of  the  Treatise,  or  its  essential  doctrines,  although 
there  are  some  significant  omissions.  The  Treatise,  therefore,  as  the 
more  systematic  and  detailed  expression  of  Hume's  philosophy,  must 
remain  the  true  source  for  an  intelligent  criticism,  and  according  to 
which  his  work  must  stand  or  fall.  See  Green's  position  in  this  re- 
spect in  the  Preface  to  his  General  Introduction  to  Hume, 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    MATERIALISTIC    MOVEMENT    IN    ENG- 
LAND  AND   FRANCE 

In  the  progressive  development  of  thought  in  the 
eighteenth  century  there  is  a  materiaHstic  interpre- 
tation of  the  Lockian  idea  of  substance  which  exerted 
a  profound  influence,  not  only  in  England  but  also 
in  France,  It  v^as  natural  that  Locke's  fundamental 
presupposition  that  the  sensations  are  the  primary 
source  of  knowledge  should  become  a  suggestive  for- 
mula for  materialistic  doctrine.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  fact  remains  that  the  Essay  met  with  such  an 
interpretation;  and  the  development  of  speculative 
thought  along  these  lines  forms  an  historical  com- 
ment upon  Locke's  philosophical  position  which  is 
most  significant.  If  one  looks  solely  at  the  source 
of  knowledge  in  the  sensory  framework  of  man,  and 
is  temperamentally  averse  to  all  the  metaphysical  im- 
plications which  such  simple  beginnings  may  con- 
tain, and  possesses,  in  addition,  a  natural  tendency 
toward  a  materialistic  habit  of  thought,  it  is  quite 
possible  to  find  in  Locke's  writings  a  guide  upon  a 
way  which  the  author  himself  would  have  been  loath 
to  follow.  There  is  a  remark  which  Locke  makes 
in  the  Essay  in  a  somewhat  problematical  and  whim- 
sical manner,  as  to  the  possibility  that  all  matter  may 
be  endowed  with  sensibihty.  He  says:  "We  have 
the  ideas  of  matter  and  thinkingy  but  possibly  shall 

111 


112  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

never  be  able  to  know  whether  any  material  being 
thinks  or  no;  it  being  impossible  for  us,  by  contem- 
plation of  our  own  ideas,  to  discover  whether  Omnip- 
otency  has  not  given  to  some  systems  of  matter,  fitly 
disposed,  a  power  to  perceive  and  think,  or  else 
joined  and  fixed  to  matter,  so  disposed,  a  thinking 
immaterial  substance;  it  being,  in  respect  of  our 
notions,  not  much  more  remote  from  our  compre- 
hension to  conceive  that  God  can,  if  he  pleases,  su- 
peradd to  matter  a  faculty  of  thinking,  than  that  he 
should  superadd  to  it  another  substance  with  a  faculty 
of  thinking."  ^ 

This  has  been  interpreted  by  many  writers  in  Eng- 
land, France  and  Germany,  not  at  all  in  the  spirit  in 
which  it  was  originally  suggested  by  Locke,  but  as 
though  it  were  the  cardinal  doctrine  of  his  whole 
philosophical  system.  Thus  a  passing  observation  of 
a  purely  conjectural  nature  has  been  magnified  out  of 
all  proportion,  and  has  been  used  time  and  again  as 
valuable  ammunition  in  many  a  controversy  which 
has  waged  about  the  strongholds  of  materialism. 
In  some  of  the  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century  who 
followed  this  lead  there  is  merely  a  materialistic  drift. 
With  others,  and  especially  as  the  movement  gathers 
momentum,  there  is  an  unreserved  avowal  of  the 
materialistic  creed  even  in  its  crudest  and  most  radi- 
cal form. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  most  conspicuous  expres- 
sions of  this  materialistic  tendency,  due,  in  part  at 
least,  to  the  influence  of  Locke,  is  to  be  found  in 
the  writings  of  David  Hartley  (1705-57).  In  his 
work,  entitled  Observations  on  Man,  His  Frame,  His 
Duty  and  His  Expectations,  which  appeared  in  1749, 
he  acknowledges  his  indebtedness  to  Locke  and  New- 

'  Book  IV,  chap.  Ill,  6. 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       113 

ton  in  the  opening  paragraph  of  the  first  chapter: 
"My  chief  design  in  the  following  chapter  is  briefly 
to  explain,  estabhsh  and  apply  the  doctrines  of  vibra- 
tion and  association.  The  first  of  these  doctrines  is 
taken  from  the  hints  concerning  the  performance  of 
sensation  and  motion  which  Sir  Isaac  Newton  has 
given  at  the  end  of  his  Principia^  and  in  the  questions 
annexed  to  his  Optics;  the  last,  from  what  Mr. 
Locke  and  other  ingenious  persons  since  his  time 
have  delivered  concerning  the  influence  of  associa- 
tion over  our  opinions  and  afi^ections,  and  its  use  in 
explaining  those  things  in  an  accurate  and  precise 
way,  which  are  commonly  referred  to  the  power  of 
habit  and  custom,  in  a  general  and  indeterminate 
one.  The  doctrine  of  vibrations  may  appear  at  first 
sight  to  have  no  connection  with  that  of  associations; 
however,  if  these  doctrines  be  found  in  fact  to  con- 
tain the  laws  of  the  bodily  and  mental  powers,  they 
must  be  related  to  each  other,  since  the  body  and 
mind  are.  One  may  expect  that  vibrations  should 
infer  association  as  their  effect  and  association  point 
to  vibrations  as  its  cause.'*  ^ 

The  problem  which  Hartley  took  from  Locke  and 
developed  in  his  own  original  way  was  this:  In  what 
way  can  our  complex  mental  states  arise  out  of  the 
simple  elements  of  sensory  experience  .?  Locke's  ex- 
planation of  the  unity  which  characterises  the  nature 
of  our  complex  ideas  was  unsatisfactory,  because  it 
presupposed  a  mental  process  too  external  and  arti- 
ficial. He  traced  the  natural  history  of  these  com- 
plex ideas  to  combinations  of  simpler  elements.  But 
the  resulting  mode  or  composition  of  these  elemental 
units  always  appeared  to  be  in  itself  something  more 
than  the  mere  sum  of  the  component  parts.     Hartley, 

'  Hartley,  Observations  on  Man,  etc.,  vol.  I,  p.  5. 


114  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

in  his  profession  (that  of  a  physician),  had  been,  of 
course,  a  student  of  chemistry.  By  a  natural  sug- 
gestion, therefore,  it  occurred  to  him  that  all  com- 
plex ideas  might  be  properly  conceived  after  the 
analogy  of  a  chemical  compound  rather  than  that 
of  a  mechanical  combination.  In  the  chemical  com- 
pound the  elemental  parts  are  no  longer  discernible, 
but  disappear  in  the  unity  of  a  more  complex  organi- 
sation. Two  simple  ideas  may  thus  blend  together 
in  the  course  of  our  experience  in  such  a  manner  that 
their  original  significance  is  lost  as  completely  as  the 
elemental  properties  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen  when 
they  combine  to  form  water.  "It  appears  also  from 
observation,"  Hartley  asserts  in  his  chapter  on  "As- 
sociation," "that  many  of  our  intellectual  ideas,  such 
as  those  that  belong  to  the  heads  of  beauty,  honour, 
moral  qualities,  etc.,  are,  in  fact,  thus  composed  of 
parts,  which  by  degrees  coalesce  into  one  complex 
idea.  .  .  .  If  the  number  of  simple  ideas  which  com- 
pose the  complex  one  be  very  great,  it  may  happen 
that  the  complex  idea  shall  not  appear  to  bear  any 
relation  to  these  its  compounding  parts,  nor  to  the 
external  senses  upon  which  the  original  sensations, 
which  gave  birth  to  the  compounding  idea,  were 
impressed.  The  reason  of  this  is,  that  each  single 
idea  is  overpowered  by  the  sum  of  all  the  rest  as  soon 
as  they  are  all  intimately  united  together.  Thus,  in 
very  compound  medicines,  the  several  tastes  and 
flavours  of  the  separate  ingredients  are  lost  and  over- 
powered by  the  complex  one  of  the  whole  mass;  so 
that  this  has  a  taste  and  flavour  of  its  own,  which 
appears  to  be  simple  and  original,  and  like  that  of  a 
natural  body.  Thus,  also,  white  is  vulgarly  thought 
to  be  the  simplest  and  most  uncompounded  of  all 
colours,  while  yet  it  really  arises  from  a  certain  pro- 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       115 

portion  of  the  seven  primary  colours  with  their  sev- 
eral shades  or  degrees."  * 

Corresponding  to  the  psychical  processes  involved 
in  the  subtle  combinations  of  ideas  through  associa- 
tion, there  are  certain  physiological  phenomena,  ac- 
cording to  Hartley,  which  uniformly  accompany 
them,  and  which  are  due  to  vibrations  among  the 
molecules  of  the  medullary  substance  of  the  brain. 
These  vibrations  differ  among  themselves  in  respect 
to  degree,  kind,  place  and  line  of  direction.  This  fur- 
nishes a  basis  of  variety  for  the  qualitative  differences 
which  the  various  combinations  tend  to  produce.^ 

As  ideas  of  a  simple  nature  unite  to  form  a  more 
complex  idea,  so  also  certain  brain  vibrations,  after 
several  repetitions  together,  coalesce  into  one  single 
vibration.  Hartley's  endeavour  throughout  his  ex- 
position of  the  association  of  our  ideas,  and  its  brain 
basis  in  medullary  vibrations,  is  to  show  the  possi- 
bility at  least,  if  not  the  detailed  modus  operandiy  of 
the  development  of  our  complex  ideas  from  an  origi- 
nal source  in  the  simple  ideas  of  sense-perception. 
I  quote  his  own  summary  of  the  explanation  of  his 
theory:  "The  generation  of  sensible  ideas  from  sen- 
sations, and  the  power  of  raising  them  from  associa- 
tion, when  considered  as  faculties  of  the  mind,  are 
evident  and  unquestionable.  Since,  therefore,  sen- 
sations are  conveyed  to  the  mind  by  the  efficiency  of 
corporeal  causes  upon  the  medullary  substance,  as 
is  acknowledged  by  all  physiologists  and  physicians, 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  powers  of  generating  ideas, 
and  raising  them  by  association,  must  also  arise  from 
corporeal  causes  and  consequently  admit  of  an  ex- 
plication from  the  subtle  influences  of  the  small  parts 

*  Hartley,  Observations  on  Man,  etc.,  vol.  I,  p.  74/. 

*  lb.,  vol.  I,  p.  30/. 


116  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

of  matter  upon  each  other,  as  soon  as  these  are  suffi- 
ciently understood,  which  is  farther  evinced  from  the 
manifest  influences  of  material  causes  upon  our  ideas 
and  associations,  taken  notice  of  under  the  second 
proposition  (that  is,  whatever  changes  are  made  in  the 
brain  substance,  corresponding  changes  are  made  in 
our  ideas)/  And  as  a  vibratory  motion  is  more 
suitable  to  the  nature  of  sensation  than  any  other 
species  of  motion,  so  does  it  seem  also  more  suitable 
to  the  powers  of  generating  ideas  and  raising  them  by 
association."  ^ 

Hartley's  materialism,  however,  was  a  qualified 
one.  The  implications  which  the  writers  who  fol- 
lowed him  found  in  his  doctrine  of  vibrations  he 
himself  would  not  allow.  His  philosophy  of  "mech- 
anism," as  he  would  call  it,  is  not  to  be  interpreted 
so  as  to  oppose  the  immateriality  of  the  soul.  That 
is  a  question  which  he  insists  remains  unaffected  one 
way  or  the  other  by  his  point  of  view.^ 

While  it  is  doubtless  true  that  Hartley  may  not  be 
justly  regarded  as  a  pronounced  materialist,  neverthe- 
less his  writings  exerted  no  inconsiderable  influence 
upon  the  materialistic  drift  in  the  thought  of  his  day. 

The  one  most  directly  and  profoundly  affected  by 
his  doctrines  was  Joseph  Priestley  (i  733-1804),  who 
in  the  year  1775  published  certain  extracts  from 
Hartley  with  comments  upon  them  under  the  title. 
Hartley's  Theory  of  the  Human  Mind  on  the  Prin- 
ciple of  the  Association  of  Ideas,  with  Essays  Relating 
to  the  Subject  of  It.  Priestley  is,  however,  more 
than  a  mere  commentator  of  Hartley's  work.  He 
essays  a  vigorous  defence  of  materialism  in  his  Dis- 
quisitions Relating  to  Matter  and  Spirit  (i777)>  and 

*  Hartley,  Observations  on  Man,  etc.,  vol.  I,  p.  8. 
»/&.,  p.  72.  »/i.,  p.  510/. 


/ 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       117 

urges  that  there  is  no  ground  whatsoever  for  as- 
suming two  different  substances,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, physical  and  psychical  phenomena  may  be  re- 
garded merely  as  different  manifestations  of  one  and 
the  same  substance.  He  insists  that  solidity  and  im- 
penetrability are  not  the  essential  characteristics  of 
matter,  but  the  properties  of  attraction  and  repulsion, 
which  are  in  no  wise  incompatible  with  the  various 
activities  of  mind  such  as  are  exhibited  in  the  proc- 
esses of  sensation,  perception  and  thought.  More- 
over, the  existence  of  matter  in  an  extended  state  does 
not  necessarily  prove  that  it  is  a  substance  radically 
different  from  mind,  because  the  powers  of  sensation, 
perception  and  thought,  as  belonging  to  man,  have 
never  been  found  except  in  connection  with  a  defi- 
nitely organised  system  of  matter.^ 

Priestley's  writings  served  to  popularise  the  ma- 
terialistic doctrine  and  give  it  a  wide  circulation  not 
only  in  England  and  on  the  continent,  but  also  in 
America,  where  he  spent  the  last  years  of  his  life  in 
the  enjoyment  of  a  complete  freedom  from  the  per- 
secutions which  had  made  his  Manchester  home  no 
longer  tolerable.  His  materialistic  propaganda  was 
announced,  however,  in  the  interests  of  what  he  be- 
lieved to  be  a  truer  and  more  profound  interpretation 
of  Christianity.  He  was  not  slow  to  attack  Holbach's 
Systems  de  la  nature,  not  because  of  its  materialistic 
point  of  view,  but  because  of  its  radical  atheism. 
This,  indeed,  may  be  taken  as  an  illustration  of  the 
difference  in  general  between  the  French  and  English 
materialists.  In  England  there  was  a  manifest  de- 
sire among  the  materialistic  writers  of  the  eighteenth 
century  to  reconcile  their  philosophical  stand-point 
with  some  form  of  deistical  belief.     In  France,  how- 

•  Priestley,  Disquisitions  Relating  to  Matter  and  Spirit,  vol.  I,  §  4. 


118  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

ever,  there  was  a  decided  tendency  toward  a  philos- 
ophy based  upon  the  atheistical  implications  of  the 
materialistic  doctrine.  The  French  attitude  of  mind, 
schooled  under  the  influences  especially  of  Mon- 
taigne and  Pierre  Bayle,  was  decidedly  sceptical,  and 
therefore  was  peculiarly  hospitable  to  the  reception 
of  the  philosophy  of  materialism.  Locke's  funda- 
mental assumption  that  our  sensations  form  the  pri- 
mary source  of  knowledge  was  eagerly  hailed  by  the 
French  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century  as  a  new 
and  comfortable  gospel.  The  idea  of  the  sensations 
as  the  primary  source  of  knowledge  readily  became 
transformed  into  the  bolder  declaration  of  the  sensa- 
tions as  the  sole  source  of  knowledge,  freed  from  all 
implications  of  metaphysics,  and  at  the  same  time 
relieved  of  the  inconvenient  intimations  of  religious 
or  moral  obligation. 

It  would  be  decidedly  over-estimating  the  influ- 
ence of  Locke,  or  of  Locke  as  interpreted  by 
Hartley  and  Priestley,  to  insist,  as  some  writers 
have  done,  that  this  influence  was  the  beginning 
and  sole  cause  of  the  French  materialism.  The 
French  philosophical  thought  had  its  own  tradi- 
tions which  were  calculated  to  develop  independently 
the  same  type  of  belief,  to  say  nothing  of  those 
tendencies  which  were  due  to  contact  with  the  earlier 
British  philosophy  through  the  writings  of  the  French 
refugees  in  England  and  Holland.  It  is  certainly 
within  the  bounds  of  a  conservative  judgment,  how- 
ever, in  this  matter  to  regard  Locke  and  his  fol- 
lowers in  England  as  forces  which  profoundly  in- 
fluenced and  accelerated  the  general  materialistic 
drift  which  so  conspicuously  characterised  the  French 
philosophy  of  this  century.  As  early  as  i68^,two 
years  prior  to  the  publication  of  Locke's  Essay,  Le- 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       119 

Clerc  had  published  extracts  from  the  manuscript 
of  it  in  his  Bihliotheque  universelle.  The  Essay  itself 
was  translated  and  published  by  Pierre  Coste,  one 
of  the  French  refugees,  in  the  year  1700.,  Coste, 
who  always  expressed  an  enthusiastic  admiration  of 
Locke,  was  with  him  in  his  last  illness,  and  closed 
the  eyes  of  the  great  philosopher  when  death  at  last 
claimed  him. 

Another  influence  of  the  most  far-reaching  conse- 
quence in  spreading  the  teachings  of  "English  philos- 
ophism"  was  the  publication  in  1734  of  Voltaire's 
Lettres  sur  les  Anglais.  Voltaire,  during  his  visit 
to  England,  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  English 
thought  with  which  he  became  familiar,  particularly 
through  the  works  of  Newton  and  Locke.  The 
current  of  his  own  thinking  was  given  a  new 
direction  and  a  deeper  flow.  As  Morley  has  very 
aptly  put  it,  "Voltaire  left  France  a  poet;  he  re- 
turned to  it  a  sage."  ^  Through  Voltaire's  en- 
thusiastic indorsement  British  philosophy  became 
exceedingly  popular  in  France.  In  addition  to  the 
Lettres  sur  les  Anglais^  Voltaire  published  in  1738  an 
exposition  of  the  Newtonian  philosophy  under  the 
title,  Elements  de  la  philosophie  de  Newton;  also 
later  a  book  in  1764  which  contained  in  popular 
form  much  of  Locke's  general  theory  of  the  source 
and  nature  of  knowledge,  entitled  Dictionnaire  philo- 
sophtque  portatif.  Voltaire  commends  Locke  most 
appreciatively  in  the  Lettres  sur  les  Anglais.  He 
says  of  him:  "Never  perhaps  has  there  ever  been 
a  spirit  wiser  or  more  scientific,  or  a  logician  more 
exact  than  Locke.  .  .  .  Other  philosophers  have 
composed  the  romance  of  the  soul,  but  one  has  now 
appeared  who  has  endeavoured  with  modest  purpose 

'  Voltaire,  p.  58. 


120  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

to  write  merely  its  history.  Locke  has  followed  the 
evolution  of  reason  in  man,  as  an  expert  anatomist 
explains  the  springs  of  the  human  body."  ^ 

Among  the  French  writers,  the  one  who  perhaps 
of  all  others  was  most  directly  and  most  intimately 
influenced  by  Locke  was  Etienne  Bonnot  de  Condillac 
(1715-80).  In  his  Traite  des  sensations  (1754)  he 
elaborates  a  theory  of  knowledge  which  is  based  ex- 
clusively upon  the  elementary  material  furnished 
by  the  senses,  and  received  in  a  purely  passive 
manner  by  the  observing  mind.  In  the  sensations 
he  finds  the  ultimate  source  not  only  of  the  varied 
content  of  our  experience  in  the  field  of  sense-per- 
ception, but  also  of  all  the  more  complex  activities 
of  our  thinking  processes.  Attention,  comparison, 
discrimination,  abstraction,  the  composition  of  even 
the  most  abstruse  of  our  ideas,  are  all  regarded 
merely  in  the  light  of  transformed  sensations  of  a 
more  or  less  obvious  character.  His  psychology  of 
the  sensations  became  the  groundwork  for  the  ma- 
terialistic writings  of  the  latter  half  of  the  century. 
It  was  taught  in  the  public  schools  of  France  during 
the  Revolution  and  under  the  Empire.  It  exerted 
a  far-reaching  influence  in  preparing  the  minds  of 
the  French  people  generally  for  the  more  radical 
doctrines  of  materialism. 

Condillac's  sensationalism  is  most  graphically  de- 
picted by  means  of  his  famous  figure  of  a  statue 
growing  into  consciousness  by  the  gradual  awaken- 
ing of  the  various  senses  one  after  the  other.  With 
the  birth  of  the  senses  there  is  a  corresponding  evo- 
lution of  intelligence  which  thus  arises  from  the  im- 
pressions received  from  without,  and  not  by  the  de- 
velopment  of  any   native   propensity   from   within. 

'  Voltaire,  Lettres  sur  les  Anglais,  Lettre  XIII,  "  Sur  M.  Locke." 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       121 

He  insists  that  "if  the  first  sensation  is  the  scent  of 
a  rose,  then  the  soul  is  the  scent  of  a  rose,  and  naught 
else/'  This  idea  of  the  transformation  of  the  statue 
into  the  living  being  through  a  fancied  investiture 
of  sense-perception,  Lange  suggests,  may  have  been 
taken  by  Condillac  from  Lamettrie's  Histoire  na- 
turelle  de  lamey  and  that  Lamettrie,  in  turn,  may  have 
borrowed  it  from  a  curious  conceit  of  the  Church 
father,  Arnobius,  in  his  Adversus  Gentes.  (i)  This 
fiction  of  the  sense-endowed  statue  of  course  begs 
the  question  as  regards  the  difficulties  which  at- 
tach to  a  philosophy  of  sensationalism.  These  dif- 
ficulties, however,  seem  to  disappear  as  the  imagina- 
tion becomes  wholly  absorbed  in  following  the  for- 
tunes of  this  newly  quickened  creature  which  draws 
its  life  from  the  magically  acquired  sensations.  It  is 
a  fiction  which  naturally  stimulates  the  fancy  and  at 
the  same  time  silences  the  critical  sense.  Through 
this  striking  and  plausible  representation  of  the  ori- 
gin of  the  life  of  consciousness,  the  philosophy  of 
sensationalism  obtained  a  deep  hold  upon  the  French 
mind.  It  is  always  difficult,  and  often  quite  futile, 
to  endeavour  to  dislodge  from  the  mind  a  metaphor 
or  allegory  by  means  of  the  straight  process  of  un- 
adorned argument.  If  one  should  attempt  to  show 
that  the  statue-man,  according  solely  to  the  presup- 
positions of  Condillac's  own  description,  would  have 
proved  to  be  an  idiot,  no  doubt  such  a  critic  would  be 
regarded  as  treating  the  subject  flippantly  and  with- 
out a  proper  and  sympathetic  appreciation  of  its  sig- 
nificance. And  yet  the  crucial  question  as  to  whether 
mere  combinations  of  passive  sensations  without  a 
central  active  organising  power  could  ever  come  to 
constitute     an     intelligent     personality,    Condillac's 

'  Lange,  History  of  Materialism,  Eng.  trans.,  vol.  II,  p.  62. 


122  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

pleasing  fiction  completely  ignored  by  tacitly  assum- 
ing in  the  finished  product  that  which  is  nowhere 
present  in  the  process  itself. 

Condillac's  sensationalism  must  not  be  regarded, 
however,  as  equivalent  to  an  avowed  materialism. 
While  the  tendency  of  his  teachings  was  material- 
istic, he  himself  did  not  appreciate  it,  nor  did  he 
ever  profess  a  materialistic  creed. 

The  ideas  of  Condillac  received  further  elabora- 
tion at  the  hands  of  Helvetius  (17 15-71),  who  in  his 
famous  work,  De  Vesprit,  endeavours  to  show  that 
all  of  the  faculties  of  the  intellect  {V esprit)  have  been 
developed  through  experience,  and  that,  too,  from 
the  most  elemental  of  sensory  beginnings.  All  moral 
distinctions  are  the  growth  in  a  like  manner  from  a 
rudimentary  susceptibility  to  pleasure  or  pain.  The 
evolution  of  character  and  determining  forces  of  con- 
duct depend  wholly  upon  the  nature  of  the  educa- 
tion which  it  is  the  lot  of  the  individual  to  receive. 
Moreover,  as  education  is  fostered  or  hindered  by 
the  character  of  the  government,  there  follows  the 
natural  corollary  that  a  government,  fast  deterio- 
rating, must  necessarily  prove  an  undermining  influ- 
ence as  regards  both  public  and  private  morals. 
Helvetius  was  exceedingly  bitter  and  at  the  same 
time  remarkably  clever  in  his  arraignment  of  the 
governing  powers  of  France  in  his  day.  What  he 
most  deplored  was  the  evident  breaking  asunder  of 
the  individual  and  social  interests.  And  this,  in  his 
opinion,  was  largely  due  to  the  arbitrary  and  unjust 
legislation  which  had  obscured  and  confused  the 
real  interests  of  life.  The  health  and  salvation  of 
society,  he  declares,  rest  solely  upon  the  legislator 
and  educator.  Although  grounding  his  psychology 
wholly  upon  a  sensationalistic  basis,  and  evolving  a 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       123 

selfish  theory  of  morals  out  of  pure  pleasure  and 
pain  elements  of  feeling,  nevertheless  Helvetius, 
with  a  pleasing  inconsistency,  maintained  a  formal 
belief  at  least  in  a  religion  of  deism,  and  would 
have  repudiated  most  strictly  the  materialistic  con- 
clusions which  his  sensationalistic  premises  seem  to 
imply. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  most  pronounced  of  the 
French  materialists  was  Julian  Offrai  de  Lamettrie 
(1709-51).  His  principal  works,  Histoire  naturelle 
de  Fame  (1745),  Uhomme  machine  (1748),  and 
L'homme  plante  (1748),  indicate  by  their  titles  his 
general  point  of  view.  He  seeks  to  show  by  the 
comparative  method  that  the  difference  between 
man  and  the  lower  animals,  and  between  the 
animal  and  plant  life  is  only  one  of  degree  and 
not  of  kind;  and  that  the  higher  forms  have  been 
developed  from  the  lower  through  processes  of 
greater  complexity  of  organisation.  He  finds  the 
moving  force  of  this  development  in  the  desire  or 
wants  of  the  various  growing  organisms.  The 
mere  plant  has  not  as  yet  attained  any  kind 
of  psychical  life,  because  it  lacks  the  initial  de- 
sires necessary  for  such  a  mode  of  existence.  Among 
the  sentient  organisms,  moreover,  the  greater  and 
more  varied  the  wants,  the  higher  the  correspond- 
ing development.  In  man,  who  possesses  the  great- 
est number  and  variety  of  wants,  and  the  widest 
range,  we  find  the  most  complex  and  highest  form 
of  life.  Inasmuch  as  all  states  of  conscious  life  in 
man  are  accompanied  by  sensation,  Lamettrie  infers 
that  sensation  is  the  primary  property  of  all  matter, 
and  all  our  thoughts  are  merely  various  modifications 
of  matter.  The  idea  of  a  spiritual  substance  he  re- 
gards as  unnecessary  and  misleading.     "The  senses! 


124  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

they  are  my  philosophers."  Such  is  the  sentiment 
with  which  he  most  comprehensively  expresses  his 
philosophical  point  of  view.  He  insists  that  where 
there  are  no  senses,  there  are  no  ideas;  and  the  fewer 
senses,  the  fewer  ideas.  Therefore  "the  soul  de- 
pends essentially  upon  the  organs  of  the  body,  with 
which  it  is  formed,  grows,  decreases."* 

Concerning  the  questions  as  to.  the  being  of  God 
and  immortality  he  maintained  a  wholly  agnostic 
attitude,  although  he  was  regarded  by  many,  from 
a  cursory  reading  of  his  works,  or  by  common  repute, 
as  a  professed  atheist.  His  morals,  both  theoretical 
and  practical,  ranged  on  the  low  level  of  a  self- 
indulgence  which  was  free  from  any  of  the  more  rig- 
orous considerations  of  duty  or  responsibility.  His 
ideas  readily  became  a  recognised  charter  of  unbe- 
lief in  religion,  and  of  licence  in  conduct,  and  were 
hailed  with  enthusiastic  approval  by  those  who  found 
in  it  a  convenient  means  of  justifying  the  course  of 
their  lives  by  a  show  of  philosophical  acumen. 
Lamettrie's  influence  was  exceedingly  extensive  in 
its  scope,  and  reached  not  only  the  various  circles 
of  philosophical  speculation,  but  also  the  popular 
thought  and  sentiment  of  his  day. 

The  leading  spirit,  however,  of  the  sceptical  and 
reactionary  school  of  philosophical  thought  in  France 
during  the  eighteenth  century  was  Denis  Diderot 
(1713-84),  a  man  of  most  versatile  gifts,  who,  as 
Rosenkranz,  his  biographer,  characterises  him, 
"  combined  in  his  own  nature,  both  consciously 
and  unconsciously,  all  the  modern  instincts  of 
French  thought."  ^ 

He  had  a  charm  of  style  which  not  only  adorned 

^  Lange,  History  of  Materialism,  vol.  II,  p.  57/. 
*  Rosenkranz,  Diderot,  vol.  I,  p.  5. 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       125 

his  writings,  but  also  made  his  art  of  conversation 
notable  among  the  salons  of  Paris.  He  was  daring 
in  thought  and  bold  in  utterance,  and  that,  too,  in 
an  age  wherein  free  speech  was  enjoyed  only  in  de- 
fiance of  the  authorities,  and  at  the  risk  of  public 
censure  or  punishment.  His  nature  resented  bitterly 
the  lifeless  formalism  of  the  church,  the  tyranny  of 
the  priests,  their  oppression  of  the  masses,  their 
privileges,  their  casuistry  and  dogmatism.  He  wel- 
comed, therefore,  a  philosophy  which  should  tend 
to  undermine  the  position  and  power  of  an  unreason- 
ably favoured  class,  and  reduce  mankind  to  a  fair 
level  of  opportunity  and  privilege.  To  him  ecclesi-  I 
asticism  meant  dogmatism;  and  dogmatism  meant 
the  traditional  metaphysic  of  sophistry  and  credulity. 
The  philosophy  of  sensationalism,  therefpre,  ap- ' 
pealed  all  the  more  forcibly  to  a  nature  which  had 
become  embittered  by  the  theological  dogmas,  urged 
in  support  of  a  decayed  ecclesiastical  system  and  in- 
imical to  the  welfare  of  the  French  people. 

Early  in  his  career,  Diderot  came  under  the  lit- 
erary and  philosophical  influences  of  England,  "the 
land,"  as  Diderot  himself  characterised  it,  "of  philos- 
ophers, systematisers  and  men  of  inquiring  mind." 
Rosenkranz  says  of  Diderot  that  "the  spirit  of  Eng- 
lish philosophy  was  embodied  in  him."  ^ 

He  translated  a  number  of  English  works  into  the 
French,  and  from  the  old  Chambers's  Dictionary  he 
received  the  suggestion  and  the  plan  of  the  great 
Encyclopcedia.  He  was  the  centre  and  life  of  the' 
coterie  of  authors  who  wrote  for  the  Encyclopcsdiay 
that  work  which  not  only  brought  the  new  knowledge 
to  the  masses  in  France,  but  also  served  to  quicken 
in   the   people   a   desire   to   discover  for  themselves 

• » Rosenkranz,  Diderot,  I,  p.  6. 


126  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

somewhat  of  the  mysteries  of  nature,  and  also  attain 
a  practical  philosophy  of  life. 

Locke  exerted  no  inconsiderable  influence  upon 
Diderot's  views  concerning  the  primary  sources  of 
knowledge.  He  accepted  the  Lockian  premises,  and 
also  his  general  conclusions.  He,  however,  soon 
drifted  from  his  original  moorings  of  sensationalism 
and  deism  into  the  darker  currents  of  materialism  and 
atheism.  In  his  article  on  Locke  in  the  Encyclo- 
pcedia  he  takes  Locke's  query  as  to  the  possibility 
of  matter  being  endowed  with  thought  as  though 
it  were  a  positive  and  established  dogma,  making 
the  following  characteristic  comment  upon  it :  "  Locke 
had  said  in  his  Essay  Concerning  Human  Under- 
standing, that  it  was  not  impossible  to  conceive  that 
matter  might  have  the  capacity  of  thought.  Faint- 
hearted men  shrank  from  this  statement.  But  what 
difference  does  it  make  whether  matter  thinks  or  not  ^ 
How  can  it  possibly  affect  the  idea  of  justice  or  of 
injustice,  the  question  of  immortality,  or  any  truths 
of  political  or  religious  systems  '^.  Supposing  sensi- 
bility were  the  primitive  germ  of  thought,  and  a 
common  property  of  all  matter,  scattered  through 
all  the  products  of  nature  in  various  proportions, 
manifesting  itself  in  weaker  or  stronger  degrees  ac- 
cording to  the  varying  complexity  of  different  organ- 
isms, what  evil  consequences  could  any  one  possibly 
infer  from  all  this  .?  None.  Man  would  still  remain 
what  he  is,  and  would  continue  to  be  judged  solely 
by  the  good  or  evil  uses  to  which  he  may  devote  his 
activities."  * 

A  more  detailed  account  of  his  philosophical  views 
is  given  in  two  of  Diderot's  essays,  the  Entretien 
entre  d* Alemhert  et  Diderot,  and  Le  reve  de  d^ Alemhert, 

'  Encyclopadia,  article  on  Locke. 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       127 

which  appeared  in  the  year  1830  under  the  title, 
MemoireSy  correspondance  et  ouvrages  tried  its  de 
Diderot.  In  these  writings  he  avows  a  somewhat 
quaHfied  materialism.  Plant  and  animal,  man  and 
beast,  the  texture  of  marble  and  of  the  hving  flesh, 
the  forces  of  nature  and  the  powers  of  mind,  have 
one  and  the  same  source,  one  and  the  same  explana- 
tion. The  natural  history  of  his  friend  d'Alembert 
is  given  in  the  following  graphic  characterisation: 
"How  has  this  man  accomplished  his  work?  By 
the  simple  operation  of  eating  and  by  other  processes 
as  purely  mechanical.  Here  is  the  general  formula 
in  four  words:  Mangez,  digerez,  distillez  in  vast 
licito,  et  fiat  homo  secundum  artem.  And  he  who 
expounded  to  the  Academy  the  evolution  of  man 
and  of  animals,  himself  used  only  material  agents  of 
which  the  successive  effects  were  merely,  in  the  first 
place,  a  perfectly  inert  being,  then  a  sentient  being, 
then  a  thinking  being,  a  being  solving  the  problem 
of  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes,  a  being  sublime, 
a  being  marvellous,  a  being  growing  old,  a  being 
wasting  away,  then  dying,  and  returning  to  the  dust 
at  last."  *  In  another  place  in  this  same  essay, 
Entretien  entre  d' Alemhert  et  Diderot,  there  is  a 
passage  in  which  the  materialistic  interpretation  of 
human  nature  is  clearly  marked.  Diderot  declares 
to  d'Alembert  that  "  there  is  but  one  substance 
in  the  universe,  in  man  and  in  the  animal. 
There  is  an  instrument  which  a  man  uses  who 
would  teach  a  canary  bird  the  various  notes  of  its 
song.  The  instrument  is  made  of  wood;  the  man 
is  made  of  flesh.  The  bird  is  made  of  flesh,  and 
the  man  of  flesh,  only  more  diversely  organised;  but 
they  all  have  one   and    the   same  origin,  the  same 

^CEuvres  de  Diderot,  Paris,  Garnier  Fr^res,  1875,  vol.  II,  p.  109/. 


128  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

kind  of  mechanism,  the  same  functions  and  the 
same  end."  ^ 

The  last  word  with  which  Diderot  ends  this  famous 
conversation  is  the  sombre  admonition  which  he 
flings  at  d'Alembert  with  a  curt  Bonsoiry  Memento 
quia  pulvis   es,   et   in   pulverem   reverteris? 

In  the  Reve  de  d^ Alemherty  Mademoiselle  de  I'Es- 
pinasse,  who  watches  by  the  bedside  of  d'Alembert 
during  his  deep  trance,  takes  down  in  writ- 
ing the  significant  utterances  of  the  philosopher 
and  shows  them  to  his  physician,  Bordeu,  who 
finds  in  them  not  the  ravings  of  delirium,  but 
the  sober  and  serious  considerations  of  one  who 
had  profoundly  contemplated  the  mystery  of  life. 
The  content  of  the  essay  is  a  continuance  of  the 
attempt  to  reduce  all  psychological  phenomena  to 
a  physiological  basis,  and  to  eliminate  all  idea  of 
freedom  in  the  thought  and  affairs  of  man.  In  speak- 
ing to  d'Alembert  of  his  trance-like  dream,  Bordeu 
reminds  him  that  throughout  the  entire  period  of 
unconsciousness  he  had  given  expression  to  thoughts 
which  were  not  only  intelligent,  but  also  deeply  sig- 
nificant. Moreover,  two-thirds  of  his  life  had  been 
passed  in  a  similar  manner.  All  the  hours  of  con- 
sciousness were  nothing  but  waking  dreams.  In  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  sleeping  and  waking,  in  meditation 
and  study,  in  the  exactions  of  work  and  in  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure,  through  the  whole  round  of  daily  activity, 
in  the  purposes  of  the  present  and  the  larger  plans  for 
the  future,  there  was  a  seeming  power  of  initiative, 
but  in  reality  none  at  all.  Thus  man  is  determined 
solely  by  the  mechanical  processes  of  mind  as  well 
as  of  body,  and  the  sense  of  freedom  is  an  illusion 

•  CEuvres  de  Diderot,  vol.  II,  p.  117. 
'  lb.,  vol.  II,  p.  121. 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       129 

which  it  were  well   to  appreciate   and   acknowledge 
once  for  all/ 

There  is  in  this  essay,  however,  an  indefinite  reser- 
vation in  Diderot's  mind  concerning  the  complete 
vindication  of  the  doctrines  of  materialism;  at  least 
to  the  extent  of  expressing  through  the  words  of 
d'Alembert  the  exceedingly  searching  and  pointed 
criticism:  "Listen,  philosopher,  I  see  perfectly  an 
aggregation,  a  tissue  of  small  beings,  each  one  capable 
of  feeling;  but  one  living  being,  a  whole,  a  system, 
a  self  with  the  consciousness  of  its  own  unity!  That 
I  do  not  see."  ^ 

Whatever  reservations  there  may  have  been  in 
Diderot's  mind  in  the  earlier  expressions  of  his  mate- 
rialistic doctrine,  the  critical  attitude  of  inquiry  con- 
cerning the  exclusive  claims  of  materialism  wholly 
disappeared,  and  in  his  later  years  he  became  spon- 
sor for  Holbach's  Systeme  de  la  nature^  which  pro- 
pounded a  materialistic  philosophy  in  its  most  ex- 
treme form.  Diderot  assisted  Holbach  in  the  author- 
ship of  this  work,  and  is  directly  responsible  with 
Holbach  for  its  conclusions.  Diderot  has  been 
cleverly  characterised  by  Rosenkranz  as  a  realist  in 
his  metaphysics,  but  an  idealist  in  his  philosophy  of 
morals.^ 

Diderot  would  regard  man  as  an  automaton,\| 
played  upon  by  the  forces  of  nature,  to  use  his  own 
figure,  as  a  musical  instrument  yields  its  melody  toj 
the  touch  of  a  hand  which  commands  it;  and  yet  he 
would  insist  upon  his  responsibility  as  a  moral  agent, 
which  has  no  meaning  whatsoever  unless  based  upon 
some  fundamental  principle  of  liberty.  There  is  in 
Diderot's  writings  a  certain  strain  of  inconsistency 

*  CEuvres  de  Diderot,  vol.  II,  p.  175/.  • /&.,  vol.  II,  p.  124. 

'  Rosenkranz,  Diderot,  vol.  II,  p.  382. 


130  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

which  is  a  saving  grace  rather  than  an  element  of 
weakness.  The  import  of  this  has  been  expressed 
most  strikingly  in  Rosenkranz's  admirable  estimate 
of  Diderot.  He  says:  "Morality  is  indeed  possible 
in  the  creed  of  an  atheist,  in  so  far  as  he  allows  the 
necessity  of  duty;  but  the  materialist,  who,  if  con- 
sistent, must  also  be  an  atheist,  cannot  concede  the 
possibility  of  any  morality  so  long  as  he  dares  to  pro- 
claim the  mechanical  process  of  material  motion  as 
the  sole  cause  of  everything.  Thinking,  willing,  self- 
determination,  an  independence  of  motives  born 
of  the  senses,  the  direction  of  one's  activities,  a  feel- 
ing of  responsibility  and  the  consciousness  of  obliga- 
tion, all  these  are  for  him  impossible.  They  are 
mere  prejudices.  Repentance  for  any  deed  of  his,  as 
ji  though  one  at  any  given  moment  could  act  difFer- 
[1  ently  from  that  which  he  finds  himself  doing,  is  for 
him  a  complete  delusion.  There  exists  for  him  no 
causa  finalis,  only  a  causa  efficiens.  Thus  Diderot 
reasons,  as  he  allows  the  physician,  Bordeu,  to  speak 
freely  as  a  consistent  materialist.  However,  How  is 
it  with  Diderot  as  a  man  .?  How  does  it  happen  that 
he  would  have  been  willing  gladly  to  cut  off  his  hand, 
if  only  he  might  have  been  able  to  destroy  com- 
pletely his  obscene  romance  of  the  Bijoux  indiscrets? 
In  this  respect,  therefore,  he  was  himself  repentant. 
And  Diderot  the  art  critic .?  How  does  it  happen 
again  that  he  so  vigorously  denounced  the  poverty 
of  artistic  ideas  and  of  invention,  the  perverted  ten- 
dencies and  bad  taste  of  his  day  ?  Why  was  he  led  to 
declare  that  if  it  were  possible  to  construct  a  machine 
which  could  produce  the  Madonna  of  Raphael,  we 
would  at  once  cease  to  wonder  at  it .?  He  indeed  de- 
manded for  art  freedom,  creative  skill  and  productive 
intelligence,   although   he  recognised  fundamentally 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       131 

only  an  efficient  cause  among  the  atoms.  And  the 
dramatist  Diderot  ?  Without  the  freedom  of  his  sev- 
eral characters  he  could  not  compose  a  single  scene 
of  one  of  his  dramatic  poems;  for  all  action  is  action 
only  so  far  as  it  is  the  result  of  free  activity.  Without 
action,  without  responsibility,  without  retribution, 
no  drama  is  conceivable.  And,  finally,  Diderot  the 
moralist  ?  How  can  he  define  the  essence  of  virtue  as 
sacrifice,  how  can  he  demand  of  human  nature  the 
traits  of  benevolence,  pity  and  heroism,  if  man  is 
necessitated  in  all  his  activities,  if  the  entire  language 
of  morality  consists  merely  in  self-deception,  if  our 
willing  and  doing  are  events  indeed,  but  without  soul 
and  without  freedom  ?  What  interest,  moreover,  has 
the  history  of  mankind,  both  in  its  more  terrible 
aspects,  and  also  in  the  shallower  currents  of  crime,  if 
it  is  not  the  outcome  of  freedom,  and  the  very  an- 
tithesis of  nature  itself.?  In  my  opinion  it  is  certainly 
to  the  eternal  honour  of  Diderot  the  man  that,  despite  / 
the  inconsistent  position  in  which  it  put  him  as  a 
philosopher,  nevertheless  he  clung  steadfastly  to  his 
belief  in  the  supremacy  of  the  moral  life,  and  rejected 
the  practical  conclusions  of  Lamettrie,  whom  he  de- 
spised."^ 

The  most  pronounced  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  systematic  exposition  of  materialism  among  the 
French  writers  is  to  be  found  in  Holbach's  Systeme  ' 
de  la  nature  (1770).  This  book  has  been  called  the 
Bible  of  materialism.  In  its  production  the  author 
was  assisted  by  Diderot,  Lagrange,  Naigeon  and 
others  of  the  familiar  circle  which  centred  in  Hol- 
bach's brilliant  salons.  It  was  too  radical  for  even 
some  of  the  professed  adherents  of  materialism,  for 
it  was  not  only  hostile  to  the  religion  of  the  church 

'  Rosenkranz,  Diderot,  vol.  II,  p.  385/. 


132  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

system,  but  it  attacked  somewhat  bitterly  all  religions 
and  indeed  the  very  idea  of  religion  itself.  Holbach 
declared  the  idea  of  God,  indissolubly  associated  with 
every  spiritualistic  hypothesis,  to  be  the  source  of  all 
tyranny  and  oppression,  and  particularly  of  the  evils 
which  were  undermining  the  French  nation.  In  a 
striking  paragraph  Holbach  declares  that  "if  we 
go  back  to  the  beginning  we  shall  always  find  that 
ignorance  and  fear  have  created  gods;  fancy,  en- 
thusiasm or  deceit  has  adorned  or  disfigured  them; 
weakness  worships  them;  credulity  preserves  them 
in  life;  custom  regards  them  and  tyranny  supports 
them  in  order  to  make  the  blindness  of  men  serve  its 
own  end."  ^ 

The  other  materialistic  writers  before  Holbach  had 
held  the  form  at  least  of  a  diluted  deism  or  a  vague 
pantheism.  Their  contention  had  been  with  ecclesi- 
asticism  rather  than  with  natural  religion.  Holbach 
maintained  throughout  an  uncompromising  attitude 
toward  every  conceivable  representation  of  a  supreme 
being.  Even  Lamettrie  had  expressed  certain  reser- 
vations at  times  which  seemed  to  concede  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  pantheistic  interpretation  of  nature. 
Holbach,  however,  consistently  held  to  the  atheistic 
construction  of  the  materialistic  position  as  the  foun- 
dation of  all  true  thinking  in  philosophy  and  all  right 
conduct  in  morals.  He  followed  the  lead  of  Bayle  in 
his  insistence  upon  the  possibility  of  a  high  order  of 
morality  in  connection  with  the  most  thorough-going 
materialism.  His  ethical  doctrines  were  of  course 
utilitarian;  not  crudely  egoistic,  however,  but  based 
upon  a  due  regard  of  the  interests  and  welfare  of 
society  as  a  whole.  The  ideas  of  the  Systeme  de  la 
nature  were  too  advanced  for  Voltaire  and   Priestley, 

'  Systeme  de  la  nature,  II,  p.  200. 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       133 

both  of  whom  attacked  the  work  vigorously  on  ac-\ 
count  of  its  repudiation  of  the  doctrines  of  deism  in 
any  possible  form  whatsoever.  Politically,  Holbach 
opposed  the  existing  order  of  things  as  responsible 
for  the  needless  suffering  and  misery  of  the  French 
people,  and  insisted  that  the  yoke  of  bondage  could 
be  thrown  off,  if  only  the  prevalent  ignorance  and  su- 
perstition could  be  dissipated  by  the  light  of  reason, 
and  mankind  be  bold  to  enter  upon  the  full  realisa- 
tion of  its  natural  rights  and  privileges. 

The  Abbe  Galiani,  a  Neapolitan,  who  was  the  ac- 
knowledged wit  of  the  circle  of  the  Encyclopaedists, 
characterises  the  Systeme  de  la  nature  in  a  most 
graphic  manner  as  follows:  "The  author  of  the  Sys- 
teme de  la  nature  is  the  Abbe  Terrai  of  metaphysics : 
He  makes  deductions,  suspensions  of  payment,  and 
causes  the  very  bankruptcy  of  knowledge,  of  pleas- 
ure, and  of  the  human  mind.  But  you  will  tell  me 
that,  after  all,  there  were  too  many  rotten  securities; 
that  the  account  was  too  heavily  overdrawn ;  that  there 
was  too  much  worthless  paper  on  the  market.  That 
is  true,  too,  and  that  is  why  the  crisis  has  come."  ^ 

Goethe  also  gives  a  most  significant  estimate  of 
Holbach.  The  Systeme  de  la  nature  came  into  his 
hands  while  yet  a  student  in  Strassburg.  He  de- 
scribes the  impression  of  disgust  which  the  gross  ma- 
terialism of  Holbach  caused  in  the  academic  circles 
there.  "  But,"  he  adds,  "we  could  not  conceive  how 
such  a  book  could  be  dangerous.  It  came  to  us  so 
gray,  so  Cimmerian,  so  corpse-like,  that  we  could 
hardly  endure  its  presence;  we  shuddered  before  it  as 
if  it  had  been  a  spectre.  It  struck  us  as  the  very 
quintessence  of  musty  age,  savourless,  repugnant."  ^ 

•  Correspondance  de  Galiani,  I,  142. 
^  Wahrheit  und  Dichtung,  Book  XI. 


134  THE   ENLIGHTENMENT 

Holbach  represents  the  lowest  level  of  materialism, 
and  in  its  defence  his  argument  is  dogmatic  and  his 
temper  uncompromising.  He  was  not  only  an  au- 
thor but  propagandist  as  well.  Two  years  after  the 
publication  of  his  Systeme  he  condensed  its  chief  prop- 
ositions in  a  short  and  popular  volume,  adapted  to  a 
wide  circulation,  called  Le  hon  sens,  ou  idees  natu- 
relles  opposees  aux  idees  surnaturelles.  This  and 
other  pamphlets  of  his  were  written  to  inflame  the 
people  against  the  tyranny  of  church  and  state,  and 
exerted  a  powerful  influence  in  encouraging  that  des- 
perate frame  of  mind  which  made  possible  the  scenes 
of  the  French  Revolution.  Holbach's  marked  per- 
sonality and  widely  extended  popularity  won  for  his 
doctrines  at  once  a  large  following.  Through  his 
generous  hospitality  he  was  known  as  the  maitre 
d' hotel  of  philosophy,  and  his  house  was  humorously 
styled  the  Cafe  de  VEurope.  Rousseau  took  him  as 
the  prototype  for  his  Wolmar  in  the  Nouvelle 
Heloise.  All  this  tended  to  increase  his  influence 
and  to  give  an  authoritative  tone  to  his  doctrines. 

Among  the  immediate  followers  of  Holbach  is 
the  French  physician,  Pierre  Jean  George  Cabanis 
(i 758-1808),  who  gave  a  complete  physiological 
expression  to  the  doctrines  of  materialism  in  his 
Rapports  du  physique  et  du  moral  de  rhomme. 
His  fundamental  thesis  is,  Les  nerfs — voila  tout 
rhomme.  His  philosophy  has  no  illusions.  He 
crudely  and  baldly  insists,  for  instance,  that  the 
brain  secretes  thought  after  the  manner  that  the 
liver^  secretes  bile.  With  him  philosophy  is  merely 
a  disguised  physiology  which  would  prove  more  ser- 
viceable to  mankind  if  it  were  frankly  stripped  of  its 
disguise,  and  were  expressed  in  unambiguous  terms. 
The  materialism  of  the  eighteenth  century  in  France, 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  MOVEMENT       135 

in  its  various  forms  more  or  less  radical,  embodied 
certain  tendencies  of  an  unmistakable  nature.  These 
tendencies  express  a  movement  of  thought  hostile  to 
any  spiritualistic  interpretation  of  nature  and  to  all 
the  established  forms  of  religion;  in  some  cases,  as  we 
have  seen,  even  to  the  very  idea  of  religion  itself.  The, 
state  became  an  object  of  attack  as  well  as  the  church, 
for  it  was  alleged  that  the  superstitions  connected 
with  the  creed  and  rites  of  the  one  were  used  to  create 
a  servile  fear  of  the  tyrannous  authority  of  the  other. 
The  political,  religious  and  social  questions  of  the 
day  were  inextricably  bound  together  with  the  phil- 
osophical. To  follow  these  philosophical  discussions 
in  that  age  was  not  a  mere  matter  of  interesting  specu- 
lation, but  of  vital  concern  because  they  intimately 
affected  not  only  the  individual,  but  also  society, 
and  the  very  foundations  of  the  state  itself.  The 
existing  order  of  things  could  not  assimilate  or  tem- 
per the  new  philosophy;  and,  therefore,  had  to  join 
issue  with  it  to  the  death.  In  this  respect  France 
differed  radically  from  England.  In  France  the 
philosophy  of  materialism  was  destructive  rather  than 
constructive,  and,  therefore,  became  a  potent  factor 
in  an  age  of  revolution. 

References. — H.    Hettner:     Litteraturgeschichte    des    achtzehnten 

Jahrhunderts.     Brunswick,  1862. 
Lange:  History  of  Materialism.     London,  1880. 
Ldvy-Bruhl:   History  of  Modern  Philosophy  in  France.     Chicago, 

1899. 
John  Morley:  Diderot.     London,  1878. 
l^  John  Morley:    Voltaire.     London,  1885. 

Rosenkranz:  Diderot's  Leben  und  Werke.     Leipzig,  1866. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING 

In  the  midst  of  the  materialistic  drift  of  this  period 
there  appeared,  within  the  very  circle  of  the  Ency- 
clopcedists  themselves,  one  who  was  not  content 
either  with  the  method  or  with  the  results  of  the  mere 
analytical  process  of  dissecting  the  phenomena  of 
natui;e  and  of  mind — that  process  which  had  suc- 
ceeded in  reducing  man  to  the  dust,  and  the  springs 
of  life  to  their  material  sources.  This  protesting 
spirit  was  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  (1712-78).  He 
himself  had  not  been  wholly  free,  however,  from 
certain  materialistic  tendencies  in  his  thinking,  due 
to  the  prevailing  influences  of  his  day.  He  had 
written  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  career  an  essay  en- 
titled La  morale  sensitive^  ou  le  materialisme  du  sage. 
Fortunately,  or  unfortunately  as  the  case  may  be, 
the  manuscript  of  this  essay  was  lost.  Rousseau 
accused  D'Alembert  of  having  stolen  it  from  his  pa- 
pers in  order  to  make  capital  of  its  suspected  ma- 
terialistic teachings  in  such  a  manner  as  seriously 
to  embarrass  its  author  in  his  exceedingly  precarious 
relations  to  the  church  authorities.  The  general 
point  of  view  which  Rousseau  took  in  planning  this 
particular  work  he  gives  in  his  own  words,  which 
are  most  significant:  "It  has  been  remarked  that  in 
the  course  of  their  lives  most  men  are  frequently 
unlike  themselves,  and  seem  to  be  transformed  into 
beings   entirely    different.     It   was    not,   indeed,   to 

136 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    137 

establish  so  well  known  a  thing  that  I  proposed  to 
write  a  book;  I  had  a  more  important  and  newer 
purpose.  This  was  to  search  for  the  causes  of  those 
variations,  and  by  confining  my  observations  to  those 
which  are  dependent  on  ourselves,  to  show  in  what 
manner  they  could  be  directed  by  us  in  order  to 
render  us  better  and  thus  exert  more  control  over 
our  actions.  ...  In  examining  myself,  and  in  ob- 
serving others  as  to  the  causes  of  those  different 
dispositions,  I  found  that  they  depended,  in  great 
part,  on  the  preceding  impressions  of  exterior  objects, 
and  that,  modified  constantly  by  our  senses  and  by 
our  organs,  we  were  feeling,  without  knowing  it,  in 
our  ideas,  in  our  sentiments,  in  our  actions  even,  the 
effect  of  these  modifications.  The  striking  and  nu- 
merous observations  which  I  had  gathered  were 
beyond  discussion,  and  by  their  physical  principles 
they  seemed  to  me  to  provide  us  with  a  physical 
regime  which,  adapted  to  circumstances,  could  place 
our  souls  in  the  conditions  most  favourable  to  virtue. 
.  .  .  Climates,  seasons,  sounds,  colours,  darkness, 
light,  the  elements,  food,  noise,  silence,  motion,  rest, 
everything  acts  on  our  machine,  and  on  our  souls 
consequently.  ...  I  have,  however,  worked  little 
over  that  book,  the  title  of  which  was  La  morale 
sensitive.,  ou  le  materiahsme  du  sage.  Distractions 
which  I  shall  soon  explain  prevented  me  from  devot- 
ing much  time  to  it,  and  the  reader  will  be  informed 

later  as  to  what  has  become  of  my  first  draft  of  this 

"  1 
essay.    * 

In  this  contemplated  work,  it  is  possible  that 
Rousseau  might  have  disclosed  very  positive  lean- 
ings toward  materialism.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the 
fact   remains   that    Rousseau    never    published    the 

*  Confessions,  Book  IX. 


138  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

essay,  and  in  the  meantime  the  earlier  Influences 
of  Condillac's  sensationalism  upon  his  point  of  view 
began  to  weaken.  At  the  same  time  he  was  also 
withdrawing  from  his  intimate  relations  with  Diderot 
and  Holbach,  and  was  planning  to  write  a  system- 
atic criticism  of  Helvetius's  work,  De  Vesprity  which 
had  been  such  a  potent  factor  in  accelerating  the 
materialistic  drift  of  philosophical  thought  in  France. 
It  is  certain  that  the  doctrines  of  the  Encyclopedists 
failed  to  carry  the  same  weight  with  Rousseau  as 
they  otherwise  would  have  done,  had  he  continued 
his  friendship  with  them  without  a  break.  As  It 
was  he  not  only  fell  out  of  their  circle,  but  out  of  their 
way  of  thinking  as  well. 

Rousseau  was  by  nature  averse  to  the  cold  and 
unsympathetic  attitude  of  the  materialistic  writers 
of  the  day.  The  popular  philosophy  with  its  im- 
plications of  atheism  as  well  as  of  materialism 
could  find  no  permanent  point  of  affinity  in  a  tem- 
perament such  as  that  of  Rousseau's,  to  which  life 
in  the  wealth  and  fulness  of  its  content  appealed 
with  an  overmastering  charm.  He  had  no  sympathy 
with  those  philosophers  "who  would  rather  give  feel- 
ing to  stones  than  grant  a  soul  to  man."  He  had  no 
curiosity  concerning  the  elements  which  might  con- 
stitute the  basis  of  life,  and  out  of  which  life  Itself 
might  be  secretly  fashioned.  He  felt  that  the  human 
spirit  far  transcends  the  bare  elements  of  which  it  may 
be  composed.  The  process  of  reducing  all  things 
to  their  lowest  terms  which  characterised  the  general 
habit  of  the  philosophical  writers  of  his  day  had  re- 
sulted in  destroying  the  very  life  which  they  were 
interested  in  examining.  While  dissection  may  con- 
serve knowledge  of  a  certain  kind,  It  sacrifices  life. 
;  The  fundamental  defect  of  this  group  of  writers  was 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING   139 

that  they  had  come  to  regard  the  philosophical  prob- 
lem in  a  wholly  abstract  way,  and  they  failed  to 
interpret  the  concrete  significance  of  life  as  a  whole. 
To  them  matter  was  a  fetish,  and  mechanical  expla- 
nation was  considered  the  only  method  which  could 
be  thought  worthy  of  scientific  consideration. 

From  the  time  of  the  renaissance  there  had  been 
an  over-emphasis  upon  the  importance  of  intellectual 
culture,  and  now  Rousseau  enters  a  vehement  protest 
— for  all  of  his  opinions  were  vehement  in  their  ex- 
pression— against  the  isolated  play  of  the  intellect  in 
dealing  with  the  problems  of  life.  He  presents  a  pas- 
sionate plea  for  the  recognition  of  something  more 
than  naked  speculation.  He  undertakes,  as  a  valiant 
champion,  the  emancipation  of  sentiment.  He  in- 
sists that,  deep  within  the  centres  of  our  conscious 
experience,  there  is  also  the  play  of  human  feeling, 
the  sense  of  values,  judgments  of  appreciation  and 
sentiments  which  sound  a  lower  level  than  the  proc- 
esses of  thought  can  ever  reach.  This  transition 
from  the  cold  and  impersonal  analysis  of  the  intel- 
lect to  the  warmer  atmosphere  of  the  feeling  is  a 
natural  reaction  from  the  age  of  reason  which  had 
followed  too  exclusively  the  lead  of  a  mechanical 
argument,  and  had  remained  arrogantly  indifferent 
to  the  claims  of  feeling  or  sentiment.  Rousseau  had 
no  sympathy  with  a  philosophy  of  mere  negation. 
"I  hate,"  says  he,  *'this  rage  to  destroy  without 
building  up."  ^  His  peculiar  office,  therefore,  was 
the  attempt  to  reinstate  the  factor  of  feeling  in  the 
philosophical  thought  of  his  day.  He  was  pecu- 
liarly fitted  to  such  a  task  by  native  temperament 
and  disposition.  Hume  writes  of  him  to  his  friend 
Burton,  "He  has  only  felt  during  the  whole  course 

'  Memoire  de  Mme.  d'Epinay,  II,  66. 


140  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

of  his  life,  and  in  this  respect  his  sensibility  rises  to  a 
pitch  beyond  what  I  have  seen  any  example  of."  ^ 

The  French  spirit  had  become  extravagantly  intel- 
lectualised  during  the  eighteenth  century,  and  this 
was  due  to  a  combination  of  many  influences  other 
than  the  purely  philosophical.  As  early  as  the  mid- 
dle of  the  century  one  of  the  keenest  observers  of 
French  affairs  and  one  of  the  wisest  of  the  French 
statesmen,  d'Argenson,  the  minister  "who  had  en- 
deavoured to  restore  a  national  policy  to  France," 
had  remarked  very  pointedly  upon  this  extreme  intel- 
lectualism  of  the  French  life  of  his  day:  "The  heart," 
he  says,  "is  a  faculty  of  which  we  are  daily  divesting 
ourselves  for  want  of  exercise,  while  the  mind  is  be- 
coming sharpened  and  whetted.  We  are  becoming 
wholly  intellectual  beings;  .  .  .  but  I  predict  that 
this  kingdom  will  perish  through  the  extinction  of 
the  faculties  which  are  derived  from  the  heart.  Men 
no  longer  have  friends;  'they  no  longer  love  their 
mistresses;  how  can  they  love  their  country.''  .  .  . 
We  are  daily  losing  that  beautiful  part  of  ourselves 
styled  sensibility.  Love  and  the  need  of  loving  are 
disappearing  from  the  earth.  .  .  .  Interested  calcu- 
lations now  absorb  every  moment;  everything  is 
devoted  to  the  commerce  of  intrigue.  .  .  .  The  in- 
ternal flame  is  dying  out  for  want  of  fuel.  Paralysis 
is  gaining  the  heart.  ...  It  is  by  following  the  gra- 
dations from  the  love  of  thirty  years  ago  to  that  of 
to-day  that  I  prophesy  its  speedy  extinction."  ^ 

That  which  d'Argenson  detected  in  the  midst  of 
the  practical  aflPairs,  Rousseau  also  discovered  in  the 
philosophical  atmosphere  whose  pervasive  influence 
had  so  completely  dominated  the  thought  of  his  con- 

•  Quoted  by  Morley,  Rousseau,  vol.  II,  p.  299. 
^  Memoires  de  d'Argenson,  p.  417. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    141 

temporaries.  In  the  age  of  the  illumination,  the  light 
which  shines  in  feeHng  should  not  be  disregarded. 
Otherwise  the  field  of  vision  is  Hmited  and  the  bright- 
ness of  its  Hght  obscured. 

In  proclaiming  the  gospel  of  feeling,  Rousseau 
maintains  that  by  the  feelings  we  are  able  at  times  to 
reach  a  sphere  of  truth  which  a  purely  intellectual 
analysis  fails  to  penetrate.  The  utterances  of  poet 
and  prophet  cannot  be  expressed  in  the  form  of  a 
theorem,  nor  are  they  capable  of  demonstration  by 
any  ordinary  methods  of  proof.  Rousseau  did  not 
urge  the  obvious  commonplace  that  man  feels  as 
well  as  thinks;  his  doctrine  presents  a  larger  claim, 
namely,  that  the  feeling  is  in  itself  a  mode  of  appre- 
hending the  truth.  Feeling  as  an  event  in  our  con- 
scious life  is  as  much  a  psychological  fact  as  the 
perception  of  the  fall  of  a  stone,  or  of  the  existence 
of  a  house  or  tree.  It  is  a  fact  that  likewise  must  be 
reckoned  with,  and  its  significance  must  be  assessed. 
There  are  some  situations  in  life  which  defy  analysis; 
they  are  sensed.  Their  significance  is  immediately 
apprehended  without  an  explicit  knowledge  of  the 
reason  which  may  underlie  them.  The  philosopher, 
too,  may  come  to  see  things  after  the  manner  of  the 
poet  or  the  prophet,  and  not  be  compelled  to  follow 
the  "dry  light  of  reason"  alone.  This  will  be  true 
particularly  when  the  moral  or  spiritual  depths  of 
one's  life  are  sounded,  and  the  resulting  experience 
refuses  to  be  formulated.  Such  is  Rousseau's  claim 
for  the  element  of  feeHng  in  a  philosophy  of  life. 
His  point  of  view  and  general  philosophical  method 
may  be  gathered  from  the  following  passage  in  his 
Profession  de  foi  du  vicar  Savoyard:  "Moreover  I 
fully  understand  that,  so  far  from  delivering  me 
from  my  useless  doubts,  the  philosophers  only  served 


142  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

to  multiply  the  perplexities  which  troubled  me,  and 
could  not  solve  any  one  of  them,  I  took,  therefore, 
another  guide,  and  said  to  myself:  Let  me  consult 
the  inner  light,  it  will  mislead  less  than  they,  or,  at 
least,  my  mistakes  will  be  my  own,  and  I  shall  wan- 
der less  astray  in  following  my  own  illusions  than  in 
committing  myself  to  their  lies.  .  .  . 

"  Possessing,  therefore,  a  love  of  the  truth  in  my  atti- 
tude to  every  philosophy,  and  having  for  every  method 
a  simple  and  easy  rule  which  enables  me  to  dispense 
with  the  vain  subtlety  of  arguments,  I  undertake, 
according  to  this  rule,  the  examination  of  all  matters 
of  knowledge  which  interest  me,  resolved  to  admit 
as  evident  everything  to  which,  in  the  sincerity  of 
my  heart,  I  am  not  able  to  withhold  my  assent,  and 
to  regard  as  true  everything  which  may  seem  to  me 
to  have  a  necessary  connection  with  the  former;  and 
to  leave  all  else  in  doubt,  without  rejecting  or  admit- 
ting their  truth,  and  without  disturbing  myself  to 
explain  that  which  does  not  lead  to  something  pos- 
sessing practical  utility."  ^ 

Here  is  a  direct  appeal  to  the  simple  deliverances 
of  consciousness,  the  elemental  feelings  and  instincts 
of  the  human  heart.  Following  this  method  of  in- 
trospection, and  trusting  the  evidence  presented  by 
the  simple  and  unanalysed  intimations  of  his  own 
experience,  Rousseau  is  satisfied  that  he  has  discov- 
ered abundant  evidence  of  the  reality  of  the  inner 
self,  of  the  compulsion  of  conscience  and  of  the 
conscious  presence  of  God.  Of  his  profession  of 
faith,  through  the  words  of  the  Savoyard  vicar,  Mr. 
Morley  says,  "it  was  not  a  creed;  it  was  a  single  doc- 
trine melted  in  a  glow  of  contemplative  transport."  ^ 

*  Entile,  nouvelle  edition,  Gamier  Frferes,  Paris,  pp.  298/. 
'  Morley,  Rousseau,  vol.  II,  p.  265. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    143 

There  is  a  touch  of  mysticism  in  these  inner  reve- 
lations of  Rousseau.  "I  beheve,"  says  he,  "that  the 
world  is  governed  by  a  Will,  all-powerful  and  wise. 
I  perceive  this,  or  rather  I  feel  it,  and  with  me  that 
is  equivalent  to  knowledge.  .  .  ,  The  Being  who 
wills  and  acts  from  a  power  within  himself,  this  Being, 
in  short,  whoever  he  may  be,  who  moves  the  universe 
and  ordains  all  things,  to  him  I  would  give  the  name 
of  God.  To  this  name  I  join  the  ideas  of  intelligence, 
power,  will,  which  I  have  united  in  one,  and  that  of 
goodness,  which  is  a  necessary  consequence  flowing 
from  them.  But  I  do  not  know  any  the  better  for  this 
the  Being  to  whom  I  have  given  the  name;  he  escapes 
equally  from  my  senses  and  my  understanding;  the 
more  I  think  of  him,  the  more  I  confound  myself. 
I  have  full  assurance  that  he  exists,  and  that  he  exists 
by  himself.  I  recognise  my  own  being  as  subordinate 
to  his,  and  all  the  things  that  are  known  to  me  as 
being  absolutely  in  the  same  case.  I  perceive  God 
everywhere  in  his  works;  I  feel  him  in  myself;  I  see 
him  in  everything  about  me.  But  when  I  fain  would 
seek  where  he  is,  what  he  is,  of  what  substance,  he  van- 
ishes from  me,  and  my  troubled  soul  discerns  nothing. 

"In  fine,  the  more  earnestly  I  strive  to  contemplate 
his  infinite  essence,  the  less  do  I  conceive  it.  But  it 
is;  and  that  suffices  me.  The  less  I  conceive  it,  the 
more  I  adore.  I  bow  myself  down  and  say  to  him,  O 
Being  of  beings,  I  am,  because  Thou  art;  to  meditate 
ceaselessly  on  Thee  by  day  and  night  is  to  raise  myself 
to  the  veritable  source  and  fount  of  my  nature.  The 
worthiest  use  of  my  reason  is  to  make  itself  as  naught 
before  Thee.  It  is  the  ravishment  of  my  soul,  it  is 
the  solace  of  my  weakness,  to  feel  myself  brought 
low  before  the  awful  majesty  of  Thy  greatness."  ' 

'  Emile,  p.  309. 


144  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

In  such  a  rhapsody  there  is  a  naive  indifference  to 
argument.  Rousseau  is  firmly  convinced  that  there 
are  certain  truths  beyond  the  scope  of  reason,  but 
within  the  reach  and  grasp  of  the  instinctive  feeHng. 
The  beHef  in  God,  in  self,  and  in  the  authority  of 
conscience,  may  be  explained  aw^ay  by  the  reason, 
but  they  persist  in  the  hidden  sources  of  feeling.  By 
a  clever  reduction  of  our  mental  powers  to  their 
physiological  concomitants,  it  may  be  made  to  appear 
that  man  is  a  mere  machine.  But  Rousseau  is  thor- 
oughly convinced  that  such  a  process  of  reduction 
must  be  regarded  as  an  unwarrantable  abstraction, 
for  it  considers  man  apart  from  those  springs  of 
feeling  which  give  him  the  sense  of  spontaneity  and 
of  freedom,  and  make  him  a  person  rather  than  an 
automaton.  It  is  possible  to  construct  a  logical 
machine  which  will  present  a  fair  but  crude  imitation 
of  certain  elementary  processes  of  reason.  But  who 
can  invent  a  machine  which  can  express  in  the  faintest 
degree  the  simplest  and  most  elemental  feeling  ?  I 
may  essay  a  mechanical  explanation  of  the  workings 
of  the  intellect,  but  by  what  device  of  gauge  or  metre 
can  I  measure  the  various  degrees  of  emotional  pres- 
sure which  changing  mood  or  passion  may  occasion  .? 
And  by  what  argument  can  I  demonstrate,  and  by 
what  formula  can  I  express,  the  significance  of  the 
stirrings  within  the  depths  of  my  nature  of  impulsive 
nobility,  or  the  patient  broodlngs  of  aspiration,  or  the 
irrepressible  intimations  of  God  and  of  immortality  f 
The  human-machine  idea  of  the  materialistic  writers 
of  France  seemed  to  Rousseau  completely  inadequate 
to  illustrate  these  deeper  moods  of  the  heart  as  well 
as  the  finer  spirit  of  reason. 

In  the  application  of  his  doctrine  of  the  feeling 
element  in  knowledge  to  the  practical  affairs  of  life, 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    145 

Rousseau  found  himself  in  direct  antagonism  to  the 
stateof  society  in  his  day.  He  skilfully  and  dramati- 
cally prepared  a  sweeping  indictment  of  the  existing 
institutions  of  church  and  of  state;  this  was  due  to 
his  conviction  that  government,  law,  ecclesiastical 
tradition  and  social  convention  all  tend  to  repress 
the  natural  and  elemental  feelings  of  man,  and  direct 
them  into  artificial  channels.  He  felt  that  this  ele- 
mental feeling  had  in  it  the  touch  of  reality  which 
the  conventionalised  customs  of  society  wholly 
lacked,  and  that  there  was  a  confusion  of  tongues 
and  a  darkening  of  counsel  caused  by  the*  very  prog- 
ress of  civilisation  itself. 

His  Discourses,  Sur  les  sciences  et  les  arts  and  Sur 
Vorigine  de  VinegaliVe,  are  an  appeal  from  the  sophis- 
ticated to  the  natural  man.  While,  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  achievements  of  civilisation,  it  may  be 
true  that  man  is  gaining  the  whole  world,  neverthe- 
less, he  is  in  danger  of  losing  himself.  Human  prog- 
ress has  not  been  conducive  to  the  improvement  of 
human  nature  as  regards  the  things  which  are  in- 
herently excellent.  Morality  is  superficial,  and  char- 
acter has  lost  its  true  ring.  "There  is  honour,"  says 
Rousseau,  "without  virtue,  reason  without  wisdom 
and  pleasure  without  happiness."  ^ 

Civilisation  has  been  a  process  of  corrupting 
the  heart  and  obscuring  the  mind;  and,  subject 
to  its  influences,  humanity  has  deteriorated  in 
every  respect.  Such  was  the  thesis  which  Rousseau 
set  himself  to  defend  in  these  discourses.  In  the 
preparation  of  the  first  discourse  his  feelings  were 
stirred  to  the  depths,  and  in  such  a  mood  the  essay 
was  not  an  argument  of  the  reason  so  much  as 
an  indictment  of  the  passions.     The  account  of  the 

^CEuvres,  edition  de  la  Librarie  Hachette  et  Cie,  Paris,  1905,  I,  p.  126. 


146  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

first  suggestions  which  came  to  him  in  reference  to 
this  discourse,  and  of  the  method  of  treatment  which 
he  determined  to  adopt,  is  vigorously  described  in  his 
own  words,  and  gives  an  excellent  illustration  of  the 
manner  in  which  his  thought  was  born  of  feeling. 
He  tells  us  that  while  he  was  walking  along  the  high- 
way from  Paris  to  Vincennes  one  hot  summer  after- 
noon to  inquire  for  his  friend  Diderot,  who  was  at 
that  time  in  prison  as  punishment  for  the  publica- 
tion of  his  Letter  on  the  Blind,  he  chanced  to  come 
suddenly  across  the  announcement,  in  a  newspaper 
which  he  found  by  the  roadside,  of  the  theme  pro- 
pounded by  the  Dijon  Academy:  Si  le  retahlissement 
des  sciences  et  des  arts  a  contrihue  h  epurer  les  moeurs. 
"If  ever  anything  resembled  a  sudden  inspiration," 
writes  Rousseau  to  M.  de  Malesherbes,  "it  was  the 
movement  which  began  in  me  as  I  read  this.  All  at 
once  I  felt  myself  dazzled  by  a  thousand  sparkhng 
lights;  crowds  of  vivid  ideas  thronged  into  my  mind 
with  a  force  and  confusion  that  threw  me  into  un- 
speakable agitation;  I  felt  my  head  whirling  in  a 
giddiness  like  that  of  intoxication.  A  violent  palpi- 
tation oppressed  me;  unable  to  walk  for  difficulty 
of  breathing,  I  sank  under  one  of  the  trees  of  the 
avenue,  and  passed  half  an  hour  there  in  such  a 
condition  of  excitement  that  when  I  arose  I  saw  that 
the  front  of  my  waistcoat  was  all  wet  with  my  tears, 
though  I  was  wholly  unconscious  of  shedding  them. 
Ah,  if  I  could  ever  have  written  the  quarter  of  what  I 
saw  and  felt  under  that  tree,  with  what  clearness 
should  I  have  brought  out  all  the  contradictions  of 
our  social  system;  with  what  simplicity  I  should  have 
demonstrated  that  man  is  good  naturally  and  that  by 
institutions  only  is  he  made  bad."  ^ 

'  Second  letter  to  M.  de  Malesherbes;  also  Confessions,  VIII,  135. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    147 

In  the  white  heat  of  indignation  at  the  social  order 
Rousseau  found  a  light  to  illumine  the  course  of  his 
thought  in  the  elaboration  of  his  negative  answer  to 
the  question  which  the  Dijon  Academy  had  pro- 
pounded. The  complexity  of  the  existing  social 
structure  had  rendered  truth  unattainable,  for  the 
source  of  truth  is  to  be  found  in  the  free  and  spon- 
taneous feelings  of  man,  and  these  waters  have  been 
polluted  or  have  dried  up  at  their  fountain-head. 
Who,  then,  can  drink  of  the  stream,  if  there  is  no 
flow  from  the  spring .?  Homely  virtue,  satisfied  de- 
sire, a  contented  spirit,  unaffected  sympathies,  the 
belief  that  does  not  falter  for  want  of  knowledge, 
and  the  knowledge  that  does  not  scorn  belief,  all 
belong  to  a  distant  age  when  the  world  was  young. 
Now  the  sophisticated  and  the  superficial  prevail. 
This  is  Rousseau's  criticism  of  the  artificial  stand- 
ards and  corrupting  customs  of  his  day  and  gen- 
eration. 

The  companion  Discourse^  on  the  Inequality  of 
Man,  has  a  similar  theme.  In  its  development  Rous- 
seau endeavours  to  prove  that  the  natural  diflPerences 
between  man  and  man  have  been  widened  and  exag- 
gerated out  of  all  proportion  by  the  artificial  social 
relations  which  have  created  class  and  caste  distinc- 
tions monstrously  degrading  and  demoralising.  "  By 
meditating  upon  the  first  and  simplest  operations  of 
the  soul'*  Rousseau  undertook  to  depict  the  feelings 
and  ideas  of  the  natural  man.  His  habit  of  un- 
grounded speculation  concerning  the  nature  of  things 
which  lie  beyond  the  scope  of  observation,  and  his 
tendency  to  fashion  facts  so  as  to  fit  his  theory,  are 
conspicuously  illustrated  in  his  graphic  and  detailed 
description  of  the  ideal  state  of  society  when  as  a 
child  of  nature  man  lived  free  from  the  trammels  of 


148  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

custom,  convention,  government  and  religion.  This 
primitive  state  of  unqualified  comfort  and  content, 
where  desires  were  few  and  satisfaction  easy  of  attain- 
ment on  the  part  of  all,  Rousseau  describes  with  the 
circumstance  of  an  eye-witness.  This  peculiarly  vi- 
cious method  leads  him  to  strike  a  balance  between 
the  old  and  the  new  order  of  things  which  is  palpably 
absurd  as  well  as  false. 

By  such  a  method  he  necessarily  falls  into  striking 
inconsistencies  and  contradictions.  His  Contrat  So- 
cial is,  in  fact,  a  substantial  repudiation  of  the  posi- 
tion taken  in  the  Discours  sur  Vorigine  de  I'lnegahte, 
and  the  Discours  sur  les  sciences  et  les  arts.  For 
instance,  he  says  in  the  Contrat  Social:  "Although 
man  deprives  himself  in  the  civil  state  of  many  ad- 
vantages which  he  holds  from  nature,  yet  he  acquires, 
in  turn,  others  so  great,  his  faculties  so  exercise  and 
develop  themselves,  his  ideas  so  extend,  his  senti- 
ments are  so  ennobled,  and  his  whole  soul  is  raised  to 
such  a  degree,  that  if  the  abuses  of  this  new  condition 
did  not  so  often  degrade  him  below  that  from  which 
he  has  emerged,  he  would  be  bound  to  bless  without 
ceasing  the  happy  moment  which  rescued  him  from 
it  forever,  and  out  of  a  stupid  and  blind  animal 
made  an  intelligent  being  and  a  man."  * 

Rousseau,  however,  was  never  disturbed  by  so 
small  a  matter  as  inconsistency  in  his  oracular  de- 
liverances. In  this  passage  there  is  a  spontaneous 
recognition  of  the  necessity  of  contributing  to  the 
feeling  and  animal  needs  of  man  some  saving  grace 
of  intelligence.  And,  although  the  idea  of  a  social 
contract  is  a  theory  which  disregards  the  past  and 
the  historical  evolution  of  society  and  its  institutions, 
and  which  bases  its  central  idea  upon  a  set  of  arti- 

'  Contrat  Social,  I,  viii. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    149 

ficial  conditions  conceived  in  fancy  and  far  removed 
from  fact,  nevertheless  it  is  essentially  an  attempt  to 
rationalise  the  relations  of  the  individual  to  his  fellows 
so  as  to  justify  a  central  governing  power.  It  lies 
outside  the  scope  and  purpose  of  the  present  study 
of  the  movement  of  philosophical  thought  in  this 
period  of  the  Enlightenment  to  enter  upon  a  detailed 
exposition  or  criticism  of  the  famous  doctrine  of  the 
Social  Contract.  Its  particular  interest  for  us  con- 
sists in  this,  that  it  furnishes  an  indication  of  Rous- 
seau's instinctive  and  perhaps  unconscious  apprecia- 
tion of  the  natural  limitations  which  the  philosophy 
of  feeling  is  bound  to  encounter.  It  is  certainly  a 
glaring  inconsistency  on  Rousseau's  part  to  claim 
everything  in  a  sweeping  manner  for  the  spontaneous 
play  of  the  feelings,  all  insight,  all  knowledge,  all 
direction  of  conduct  and  final  decisions  in  the  per- 
plexities of  thought  and  action,  and  yet  at  the  same 
time  to  attempt  a  rational  justification  of  the  founda- 
tions of  that  civilisation  which,  according  to  his 
fundamental  point  of  view,  tends  to  check  the 
free  development  of  these  same  feelings,  and  to 
neutralise  their  native  power.  Rousseau's  attitude 
in  this  respect  is  something  more  than  an  instance  of 
inconsistency.  It  possesses  a  deeper  philosophical 
significance.  It  represents  a  natural  return  of  the 
feeling  element  in  experience  upon  itself,  and  the 
finding  of  itself  in  the  larger  sphere  of  its  intellectual 
relations  and  implications.  For  feeling,  after  all,  is  a 
function  of  the  intelligence,  that  is,  as  the  contribu- 
tions which  it  receives  from  the  intellect  are  found  to 
vary,  so  also  will  the  corresponding  feeling  vary  in 
intensity  and  in  significance.  Rousseau  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  his  attempt  to  abstract  the  feeling  elements 
from  the  concrete  whole  of  life  any  more  than  the 


150  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Encyclopcedtsts  were  able  to  abstract  the  intellectual 
elements  in  disregard  of  the  claims  of  feeling. 

The  tendency  to  allow  some  place  in  his  philos- 
ophy of  feeling  for  the  balancing  function  of  the 
reason  is  noticeable  in  a  number  of  places  throughout 
the  Confession  of  Faith  of  the  Savoyard  Vicar.  In 
referring  to  the  sensations,  Rousseau  qualifies  their 
exclusive  claims  in  the  following  statement:  "I  am, 
however,  not  merely  a  sensitive  and  passive  being, 
but  a  being  likewise  active  and  intelligent;  and 
whatever  philosophy  may  say  to  the  contrary,  I  shall 
at  least  dare  to  lay  claim  to  the  honour  of  thought."  * 

He  places  man  above  all  other  animals  because  he 
alone  is  able  to  contemplate  them  all.  "It  is  there- 
fore true  that  man  is  lord  of  the  earth  which  he 
inhabits.  For  not  only  does  he  dominate  all  crea- 
tures and  dispose  all  of  the  elements  by  his  industry, 
but  he  alone  knows  how  to  conduct  himself  in  the 
world;  and,  moreover,  he  can  appropriate  through 
contemplation  the  very  stars  themselves,  although  he 
is  not  able  to  approach  them.  Who  can  show  me 
another  animal  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  who 
understands  the  use  of  fire  and  who  can  gaze  in  ad- 
miration upon  the  sun.?  What!  I  am  able  to  ob- 
serve and  understand  all  creatures  and  their  relations 
one  to  another.  I  am  able  to  recognise  order,  beauty 
and  virtue.  I  am  able  to  contemplate  the  universe 
and  raise  my  thoughts  to  the  hand  which  governs  it, 
and  I  am  able  to  appreciate  the  good  and  pursue  it. 
And  yet  shall  I  stoop  to  compare  myself  to  the 
beasts  ?"  ^ 

Moreover,  he  clearly  recognises  a  moral  order  in 
the  world,  and  the  necessity  foi^  the  individual  to 
regulate  his  own  life  according  to  its  laws.     He  says: 

'  Emile,  p.  302.  ^  lb.,  p.  310. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    151 

"There  must  be  definite  moral  order  wherever  there 
is  sentiment  and  intelligence.  The  difference  be- 
tween the  good  and  evil  man  is  that  the  good  man 
orders  his  life  in  accordance  with  the  whole,  and  the 
evil  man  would  order  the  whole  in  accordance  with 
the  interests  of  his  own  individual  life.  The  latter 
makes  himself  the  centre  of  all  things;  the  former 
takes  the  measure  of  the  radius  and  holds  himself 
at  its  circumference.  Therefore  he  finds  his  proper 
place  at  once  in  regard  to  the  common  centre,  which 
is  God,  and  in  respect  to  all  the  concentric  circles 
which  represent  his  fellow  creatures."  ^ 

As  a  corrective  of  the  dictates  of  pure  subjective 
feeling,  Rousseau  would  place  above  the  particular 
experience  of  the  individual  and  the  sentiments  which 
would  naturally  control  his  will  a  raison  commune, 
of  which  there  are  abundant  intimations  In  the  con- 
science of  every  human  being,  and  which  should 
exercise  a  superior  authority.  This  appeal  from  the 
particular  to  the  universal  reason  may  be  clearly 
recognised  in  the  following  passage  from  a  letter  to 
one  of  his  correspondents:  "You  bid  me  distrust  this 
internal  assent,  but  I  find  in  it  a  natural  safeguard 
against  the  sophisms  of  my  understanding.  And  I 
fear  that  on  this  occasion  you  are  confusing  the  secret 
inclinations  of  our  heart  which  lead  us  astray  with 
that  more  secret,  more  inward  voice  which  reclaims 
and  murmurs  against  these  interested  decisions,  and 
brings  us  back,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  to  the  way  of 
truth."  2 

In  a  similar  manner  in  the  Contrat  Social,  Rousseau 
states  that  the  individual  will  must  always  recognise 

'  Entile,  p.  328. 

^  See  Caird's  Essay  on  "  Rousseau,"  in  his  Essays  on  Literaiure  and 
Philosophy,  vol.  I,  p.  133. 


152  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

and  acquiesce  in  the  volonte  generale,  to  which  it  is 
related  as  a  particular  to  an  all-comprehending  and 
determining  universal.  However,  while  recognising 
the  universal  character  of  the  intellectual  factors 
essentially  connected  with  the  forces  of  feeling  in  our 
nature,  Rousseau,  nevertheless,  does  not  give  this  idea 
a  conspicuous  or  a  very  certain  place  in  his  thought. 
And  the  cause  of  this  is  not  far  to  seek.  The  tide 
of  feeling  always  runs  too  strong  in  his  nature  for 
him  to  discover  amidst  the  pressure  of  particular  feel- 
ings their  deeper  universal  significance.  While  in- 
sisting that  Emile,  in  the  course  of  his  ideal  education, 
must  at  all  times  respect  reason  and  preserve  an  open 
mind,  nevertheless  in  his  own  thinking  he  yields 
invariably  to  the  overmastering  power  of  a  sentiment 
which  is  impatient  of  any  rival.  On  this  account  he 
fails  to  give  a  satisfactory  account  of  the  relations  of 
man  to  his  fellow  man  in  society.  He  never  wholly 
frees  himself  from  an  innate  tendency  to  magnify  the 
feeling  element  in  the  determination  of  the  life  of  the 
individual.  Consequently  he  regards  the  individual, 
thus  controlled  in  a  large  measure  by  the  feelings 
peculiar  to  his  own  nature,  as  separate  and  isolated 
both  as  regards  the  essential  characteristics  of  his 
personality  and  also  the  conduct  of  his  life.  He  is, 
therefore,  capable  of  entering  into  political  relations 
only  in  an  artificial  manner.  Rousseau  regards  man 
neither  as  a  political  nor  as  a  social  animal;  for  the 
feelings  always  exercise  a  tendency  toward  undue 
particularisation.  Therefore  one  who  emphasises 
the  feeling  element  in  experience,  always  tends  to  an 
extreme  individualism.  And  the  units  of  society, 
thus  differentiated,  do  not  draw  together.  The  in- 
dividual, according  to  Rousseau,  who  lives  according 
to  nature,  is  one  guided  by  inclination  and  even  at 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    153 

times  by  caprice,  and  who  has  not  learned  the  secret 
of  a  life  which  is  ordered  by  reason  and  the  sense  of 
obligation. 

To  form  an  adequate  philosophy  of  life  there  must 
be  some  attempt  at  rationalising  its  phenomena,  that 
is,  of  discovering  the  universal  significance  and  or- 
ganic relations  of  its  scattered  and  separate  experi- 
ences. But  while  the  universal  may  be  expressed 
in  terms  of  thought,  the  feeling  element  cannot  so 
readily  be  exhibited  in  its  wider  bearings,  and  it  resists 
all  attempt  at  generalisation.  My  feeling  is  mine 
and  may  not  be  yours;  its  significance,  therefore, 
remains  for  me  alone.  Rousseau  himself  is  aware  of 
this,  as  may  be  seen  from  his  confession  that  "a» 
proof  of  sentiment  for  me  cannot  become  a  demon- 
stration for  others,  and  it  is  not  reasonable  to  say  to 
any  one,  'You  ought  to  believe  this,  because  I  be- 
lieve it.'"^  The  particular  feeling  so  holds  Rous- 
seau's exclusive  attention  that  he  always  fails  to 
appreciate  its  larger  significance  and  bearing  which 
thoughtful  reflection  alone  can  disengage.  His  Con- 
fessions bear  witness  to  his  abnormal  interest  in 
the  play  of  his  own  feelings,  and  also  to  his  evident 
conviction  that  it  is  a  matter  of  supreme  importance 
to  acquire  the  habit  of  making  an  exact  assessment 
of  every  passing  sentiment  and  changing  mood.  The 
Confessions  represent  the  abstract  consideration  of 
the  anatomy  of  the  feelings  in  its  most  extreme  and 
exaggerated  form.  In  this  record  of  his  own  life 
there  is  a  veritable  idolatry  of  sentiment.  The  expo- 
sition of  the  play  of  passion  and  appetite  with  such 
prodigality  of  detail,  the  analysis  of  emotions  ignoble 
as  well  as  noble,  and  the  self-regarding  attitude  which 
the  author  consistently  maintains  throughout  his  nar- 

*  Caird,  Ibid.,  p.  134. 


154  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

rative  are  an  offence  not  only  to  the  reason  but  to  the 
imagination  as  well.  Extreme  individualism  is  the 
dominant  note  in  all  of  Rousseau's  writings;  it  is 
the  natural  product  and  expression  of  the  exagger- 
ated egoistic  sentimentalism  which  is  emitted  from 
every  page  of  the  Confessions  like  the  heavy  palling 
odour  of  over-luxuriant  and  rank  vegetation. 

This  tendency  on  the  part  of  Rousseau  to  regard 
the  feeling  element  of  experience  in  a  wholly  abstract 
manner,  despite  his  concessions  at  times  to  the  cor- 
rective and  steadying  power  of  the  reason,  may  be 
seen  also  in  the  practical  separation  of  feeling  from 
action  which  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  features 
of  his  character  and  which  gives  to  his  life  its  funda- 
mental defect  of  inconsistency, 

Rousseau  is  capable  of  noble  feeling,  and  quite  as 
capable  also  of  ignoble  action.  He  perfectly  illus- 
trates in  his  own  nature  the  characteristic  remark 
of  Hume,  that  "reason  is  and  ought  to  be  only  the 
slave  of  the  passions."  For  him  feeling  never  became 
a  law  to  the  will;  but  there  was  always  a  weak  com- 
pliance with  the  desire  of  the  moment.  Sentiments 
which  imposed  obligation  of  any  kind  were  exceed- 
ingly distasteful  to  him.  "In  everything,"  he  con- 
fesses, ^'  gdne  and  subjection  are  insupportable  to  me, 
they  would  make  me  hate  pleasure  itself."  ^ 

Again,  he  states  that  "in  order  to  do  good  with 
pleasure,  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  act  freely,  without 
restraint;  and  to  take  away  all  the  sweetness  of  a 
good  work  from  me  it  is  only  necessary  that  it  should 
become  my  duty.  Be  it  man  or  duty  or  even  neces- 
sity that  lays  a  command  upon  me,  when  my  heart  is 
silent,  my  will  remains  deaf,  and  I  cannot  obey;  I 
see  an  evil  threatening  me,  but  I  let  it  come  rather 

•  Confessions,  I,  5. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    155 

than  agitate  myself  to  prevent  it.  In  every  imagina- 
ble thing,  v^hat  I  cannot  do  with  pleasure  it  is  im- 
possible for  me  to  do  at  all."  ^ 

With  Rousseau  virtue  is  something  to  be  admired, 
but  not  practised.  He  who  wrote  so  convincingly  of 
the  supreme  duty  of  the  maternal  care  of  children 
that  the  mothers  of  all  France  turned  instinctively  to 
the  neglected  responsibilities  and  privileges  which 
an  awakened  conscience  no  longer  dared  to  deputise, 
was  himself  so  indifferent  to  the  natural  claims  of  his 
own  children  that  he  was  willing  to  place  them  in  a 
foundling  hospital,  and  to  dispose  of  them  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  destroy  any  possible  clue  of  the  recogni- 
tion of  them  in  after  years,  thus  severing  all  pater- 
nal ties  whatsoever  completely  and  irrevocably.  He 
who  graphically  pictured  the  ideal  home  of  domestic 
simplicity  and  happiness  never  made  a  home  for 
his  own.  He  who  could  be  easily  reduced  to  tears 
at  the  very  thought  of  virtue  and  of  honour,  felt  at  the 
time  no  compunctions  of  conscience  in  unjustly  accus- 
ing a  young  serving-maid  of  stealing  in  order  to  shield 
himself;  and  again,  in  basely  deserting  his  friend  and 
teacher  who  had  been  overcome  suddenly  by  an 
apoplectic  seizure  in  a  crowded  market-place,  he  fol- 
lowed the  impulse  of  convenience  rather  than  the 
dictates  of  decency,  to  say  nothing  of  the  demands  of 
friendship. 

Loyalty  to  friends  was  a  theme  which  stirred  his 
eloquence  to  extravagant  expression,  and  yet  in  all 
of  his  friendships  he  was  never  able  to  pass  beyond 
the  shadow  of  himself.  With  a  profound  sympathy 
for  the  unfortunate  and  oppressed,  and  valiantly 
championing  the  rights  of  the  people,  nevertheless 
the  actual  presence  of  the  individual  person,  the  con- 

1  Reveries,  VI. 


156  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Crete  representative  of  humanity  in  general,  was 
irritating  and  intolerable  to  him.  He  indulged  him- 
self in  the  reverie  of  feeling  as  a  form  of  intoxication. 
In  fancy  Rousseau  v^as  able  to  regard  life  from  the 
stand-point  of  a  disinterested  spectator,  and  in  his 
speculative  moods  things  assumed  normal  propor- 
tions; the  noble  and  the  ideal  were  then  seen  in  their 
true  light,  and  were  regarded  with  an  enthusiastic 
appreciation  which  provoked  in  him  a  spirit  of  exal- 
tation. But  immersed  in  actual  experiences  of  life, 
Rousseau  became  acutely  sensitive  to  the  sordid, 
the  distorted,  the  mean  and  base  side  of  human  na- 
ture. His  own  bodily  comfort  appealed  to  him  so 
strongly  that  he  was  disinclined  to  take  any  part  in 
those  affairs  which  might  offend  his  taste  or  depress 
his  spirit.  There  was  no  co-ordination  of  the  ideal 
and  the  real  in  his  philosophy  of  life.  His  general 
point  of  view  in  this  regard  is  described  in  a  somewhat 
paradoxical  manner,  and  yet  most  significantly  withal, 
in  La  nouvelle  Heloi'se.  Through  the  words  of  Julie 
he  gives  expression  to  his  creed  concerning  happiness: 
"  People  are  only  happy  before  they  are  happy.  Man, 
so  eager  and  so  feeble,  made  to  desire  all  and  obtain 
little,  has  received  from  heaven  a  consoling  force 
which  brings  all  that  he  desires  close  to  him,  which 
subjects  it  to  his  imagination,  which  makes  it  sensible 
and  present  before  him,  which  delivers  it  over  to  him. 
The  land  of  chimera  is  the  only  one  in  this  world  that 
is  worth  dwelling  in,  and  such  is  the  nothingness  of 
the  human  lot  that,  except  the  being  who  exists  in 
and  by  himself,  there  is  nothing  beautiful  except  that 
which  does  not  exist."  ^ 

The  feelings  which  find  play  solely  in  the  sphere 
of  the  imagination,  and  are  completely  divorced  from 

'  La  nouvelle  Heloi'se,  VI,  viii,  298;  Confessions,  XI,  106. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    157 

that  action  which  is  their  natural  mode  of  expression, 
and  at  the  same  time  are  uninfluenced  by  those  intel- 
lectual associations  which  are  wont  to  give  them  depth 
and  direction,  may  well  be  regarded  as  an  exceedingly 
uncertain  light  in  guiding  us  to  the  sources  of  truth. 
The  discrepancy  between  the  ideal  and  the  actual  in 
Rousseau's  case  is  the  more  marked  because  of  the 
insistence  throughout  his  various  works  upon  the 
pragmatic  test  of  truth. ^  He  freely  indulged  in  such 
assertions  as  these:  that  "he  will  not  burden  his 
mind  with  any  difficult  problems  which  do  not  lead 
to  practical  results,"  and  that  "goodness  should 
spring  from  the  heart  as  well  as  show  itself  in  one's 
conduct,"  and  again,  that  "the  true  reward  of  jus- 
tice is  the  consciousness  that  one  has  practised  it";  ^ 
nevertheless  he  never  was  able  or  never  cared  to 
order  his  own  life  so  as  to  illustrate  the  noble  senti- 
ments which  his  thought  devised  with  such  facile 
skill. 

In  the  endeavour  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  Rous- 
seau's contribution  to  the  philosophical  thought  of 
his  day,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  he  did  not 
succeed  in  establishing  a  philosophy  of  feeling.  In 
that  he  failed.  However,  he  did  succeed  in  his  eflForts 
to  draw  attention  to  the  necessity  of  including  the 
feeling  element  in  an  adequate  philosophy  of  man. 
If  it  should  be  objected  that  this  is  not  a  new  or  orig- 
inal idea,  it  will  be  at  least  allowed  that  Rousseau 
brought  the  play  of  his  genius  to  bear  upon  this 
neglected  factor  in  the  speculations  of  his  philosoph- 
ical colleagues,  and  by  the  charm  and  vogue  of  his 
writings  kept  it  well  in  the  foreground  of  contempo- 

'  See    a    recent    article    by    Prof.  Albert    Schinz  on  Jean    Jacques 
Rousseau,  A  Forerunner  of  Pragmatism. 
*  Emik,  pp.  299,  322. 


158  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

rary  thought.  In  the  age  of  reason  he  entered  a  plea 
for  the  claims  of  feeling.  It  is  true  that  these  claims 
were  exaggerated,  and  the  urgency  of  his  contention 
overwrought,  and  yet  it  may  have  been  necessary  to 
over-emphasise  the  importance  of  the  feeling  factor 
in  order  that  his  cause  might  gain  even  a  hearing. 
Mr.  Morley  has  given  an  estimate  of  Rousseau  which, 
both  as  an  appreciation  and  as  a  criticism,  is  most 
expressive  and  adequate:  "Rousseau  awoke  emotion 
to  self-consciousness,  gave  it  a  dialect,  communicated 
an  impulse  in  favour  of  social  order,  and  then  very 
calamitously,  at  the  same  time,  divorced  it  from  the 
fundamental  conditions  of  progress,  by  divorcing  it 
from  disciplined  intelligence  and  scientific  reason."  ^ 

It  is  true,  as  we  have  seen,  that  Rousseau  was  not 
wholly  indifferent  to  the  high  offices  of  reason,  and 
yet  in  protesting  against  the  extreme  position  wherein 
reason  had  grown  mechanical,  and  contemptuous  of 
the  actual  experiences  of  life,  he  naturally  fell  into 
the  counter  error  of  substituting  one  extreme  posi- 
tion for  another.  But  sentiment  is  not  a  substitute 
for  wisdom,  nor  emotion  for  law.  Rousseau's  word, 
therefore,  cannot  be  considered  as  final.  While  draw- 
ing attention  to  a  neglected  factor,  he  commits  the 
fatal  blunder  of  regarding  that  factor  as  though  it 
were  the  whole,  and  of  placing  an  exclusive  empha- 
sis upon  it.  In  the  role  of  the  champion  of  feeling 
he  challenged  reason  as  a  foe,  whom  however  he 
should  have  endeavoured  to  win  as  an  ally  and  friend. 

Rousseau's  direct  influence  upon  the  subsequent 
philosophical  thought  is  illustrated  most  conspicu- 
ously in  the  effect  which  his  individualism  and  his 
protest  against  the  exaggerated  valuation  of  the  intel- 
lect produced  in  the  mind  of  Kant.     In  a  notable 

*  Morley,  Rousseau,  vol.  II,  p.  49. 


ROUSSEAU'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING    159 

passage  in  the  Fragmente,  Kant  expresses  his  appre- 
ciation of  Rousseau  and  his  personal  indebtedness 
for  a  timely  suggestion  which  radically  affected  his 
general  disposition  and  attitude  of  thought.  He  says : 
"  I  myself  am  by  inclination  an  inquirer.  I  feel  an 
absolute  thirst  for  knowledge  and  a  longing  unrest  to 
advance  ever  further  and  to  enjoy  the  delights  of 
new  discovery.  There  was  a  time  when  I  thought 
that  this  was  what  conferred  real  dignity  upon  human 
life,  and  I  despised  the  rabble  who  knew  nothing. 
Rousseau  has  shown  me  my  error.  This  dazzling 
advantage  vanishes,  and  I  have  come  to  honour  man, 
and  should  regard  myself  as  of  much  less  use  than 
the  common  labourer  if  I  did  not  beheve  that  this 
speculative  philosophy  will  restore  to  all  men  the 
common  rights  of  humanity."  ^ 

It  is  no  inconsiderable  debt  that  Kant  owed  to 
Rousseau.  His  respect  for  the  individual  and  his 
appreciation  of  man's  worth  as  an  end  in  himself; 
his  democratic  feeling  for  the  rights  and  the  needs 
of  the  people;  his  belief  in  the  intimations  of  the 
practical  as  well  as  of  the  pure  reason;  and  his  con- 
viction that  happiness  is  not  a  matter  of  culture  alone, 
but  depends  quite  as  much  upon  the  sound  heart  and 
the  simple  nature  of  the  more  lowly  conditioned  in 
the  march  of  humanity, — this,  in  part  at  least,  Kant 
gained  from  the  inspiration  of  Rousseau. 

Wherein  Rousseau  failed,  namely,  in  his  inability 
to  recognise  the  constructive  power  of  reason,  in  this 
very  respect  the  critical  genius  of  Kant  restored  the 
true  balance  of  thought  by  producing  a  synthesis  of 
intellect  and  feeling  which  merits  the  distinction  of 
a  philosophy  of  human  nature  in  its  fully  rounded 
capacity. 

'  Hartenstein's  second  edition  of  Kant's  Works,  vol.  VIII,  p.  642. 


160  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

References. — Edward  Caird:  Essay  on  Literature  and  Philosophy, 

vol.  I.     Glasgow,  1892. 
Thomas  Davidson:  Rousseau  and  Education  according  to  Nature. 

New  York,  1902. 
T.  H.  Green.  Philosophical  Works,  vol.  II,  pp.  386-396.     London, 

1885. 
H.  Hoffding:   Rousseau  und  Seine  Philosophie.     Stuttgart,  1897. 
L.  Levy-Bruhl:  History  of  Modern  Philosophy  in  France.     Chicago, 

1899. 
J.  R.  Lowell:   The  Sentimentalism  0}  Rousseau:   Among  My  Books, 

Series  I.     Boston,  1876. 
Frederika  Macdonald:    Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  A  New  Criticism. 

London,  1906. 
Frederika    Macdonald:    Studies  in    the   France    0}    Voltaire   and 

Rousseati.     London,  1895. 
iX  John  Morley:  Rousseau.     London,  1873. 

Saint  Marc  Girardin:  Rousseau,  sa  vie  et  ses  ceuvres.     Paris,  1874. 
Sainte  Beuve:    Confessions  de  J .  J.  Rousseau.    Causeries  du  lundi, 

III.     Paris,  1874. 
M.    G.    Streckeisen-Moultou:     J.    J.    Rousseau,  ses    amis   et   ses 

enemis.     Paris,  1861. 
Joseph  Texte:   Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  and  the  Cosmopolitan  Spirit 

in  Literature.     London  and  New  York,  1899. 
George  Saintsbury;  Rousseau  in  Encyclopedia  Britannica. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ 

There  is  a  type  of  mind  radically  different  from 
that  of  Rousseau,  quite  different  also  from  that  of 
Locke  or  of  his  school,  which  is  illustrated  in  the 
writings  of  Gottfried  Wilhelm  Leibniz  (1646-1716), 
In  his  philosophy,  the  empirical  point  of  view  gives 
place  to  the  rationalistic — a  method  of  inquiry  which, 
in  spite  of  its  seeming  opposition,  is  really  the  natural 
complement  of  empiricism.  The  rationalistic  method 
of  constructing  a  systematic  body  of  knowledge  pro- 
foundly affected  the  movement  of  the  philosophical 
thought  in  the  eighteenth  century;  and  no  one  con- 
tributed more  brilliantly  or  more  significantly  than 
Leibniz  to  the  stream  of  its  influence.  The  ration- 
alistic attitude  of  mind  regards  the  reason  as  a  source 
of  knowledge,  as  well  as  the  senses;  but  more  than 
that,  it  holds  that  even  the  material  furnished  by  the 
senses  would  prove  wholly  unintelligible,  were  it  not 
for  the  interpreting  capacity  of  certain  fundamental 
ideas  and  principles  which  are  born  of  the  reason 
alone.  Leibniz,  therefore,  supplies  an  element  which 
is  wanting  in  the  presuppositions  of  Locke  and  in 
the  development  of  the  Lockian  principles  at  the 
hands  of  his  followers,  and  he  appears  as  the  natural 
critic  of  Locke  from  the  stand-point  of  rationalism. 
His  Nouveaux  Essais  present  a  detailed  criticism 
of  Locke's  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding. 

161 


162  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

In  the  Nouveaux  Essais  two  friends,  Phllalethes 
and  Theophilus,  converse  together;  the  first  states 
the  views  of  Locke,  the  second  repHes  from  the 
stand-point  of  Leibniz.  Locke,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, had  insisted  that  nihil  est  in  intellectu,  sed 
non  fuerit  in  sensu;  and  Leibniz,  in  commenting 
upon  this  declaration  of  Locke's,  had  added,  nisi 
intellectus  ipse.  This  supplementary  clause  ex- 
presses in  a  phrase  the  fundamental  point  of  view 
of  Leibniz's  philosophy.  In  his  Preface  to  the 
Nouveaux  Essais  Leibniz  comments  thus  signifi- 
cantly upon  the  differences  between  his  point  of  view 
and  that  of  Locke:  "Our  differences  are  upon  sub- 
jects of  some  importance.  The  question  is  to  know 
whether  the  soul  in  itself  is  entirely  empty,  as  tablets 
upon  which  as  yet  nothing  has  been  written  (tabula 
rasa)  according  to  Aristotle  and  the  author  of  the 
Essay f  and  whether  all  that  is  traced  thereon  comes 
solely  from  the  senses  and  from  experience;  or 
whether  the  soul  contains  originally  the  principles  of 
many  ideas  and  doctrines  which  external  objects 
merely  call  up  on  occasion,  as  I  believe  with  Plato,  and 
even  with  the  Schoolmen,  and  with  all  those  who  in- 
terpret in  this  way  the  passage  of  St.  Paul  (Rom.  ii. 
15),  where  he  states  that  the  law  of  God  is  written  in 
the  heart.  The  Stoics  call  these  principles  prolepsesy 
i.  e.y  fundamental  assumptions,  or  what  is  taken 
for  granted  in  advance.  The  Mathematicians  call 
them  general  notions,  kolvoL  evvoiat.  Modern  philos- 
ophers give  them  other  beautiful  names,  and  Julius 
Scaliger  in  particular  named  them  semina  ceternitatiSy 
also  zopyra,  i.  e.,  living  fires,  luminous  flashes,  con- 
cealed within  us,  but  which  the  encounter  of  the 
senses  makes  appear  like  the  sparks  which  the  blow 
makes  spring  from  the  steel.     And  the  belief  is  not 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  163 

without  reason,  that  these  inner  illuminations  indicate 
something  divine  and  eternal  which  appears  espe- 
cially in  the  necessary  truths.  Whence  another  ques- 
tion arises,  whether  all  truths  depend  upon  experience, 
i.  e.y  upon  induction  and  examples,  or  whether  there 
are  some  which  have  still  another  foundation.  For 
if  some  events  can  be  foreseen  prior  to  any  proof 
which  may  have  been  made  of  them,  it  is  manifest 
that  we  ourselves  contribute  something  thereto.  The 
senses,  although  necessary  for  all  our  actual  knowl- 
edge, are  not  sufficient  to  give  it  all  to  us,  since  the 
senses  never  give  us  anything  but  examples,  i.  e.y 
particular  or  individual  truths."  * 

This  represents  the  line  of  departure  from  Locke, 
which  Leibniz  follows  throughout  the  whole  course 
of  his  criticism.  The  intellect  furnishes  certain  basal 
ideas,  as  being,  unity,  substance,  identity,  cause,  per- 
ception, reason  and  the  like,  and  these  ideas,  more- 
over, are  constitutive  in  the  process  of  interpreting 
the  crude  material  supplied  by  the  senses.^ 

The  knowledge  which  is  given  by  the  senses  is 
obscure  and  confused  until  it  is  illumined  by  the 
light  of  reason,  where  alone  the  truth  shines  clear 
and  in  its  own  light.  Leibniz,  moreover,  holds  that 
"the  intellectual  ideas  which  are  the  source  of  neces- 
sary truths  do  not  come  from  the  senses.  .  .  .  The 
ideas  which  come  from  the  senses  are  confused,  and 
the  truths  which  depend  upon  them  are  likewise  con- 
fused, at  least  in  part;  whereas  the  intellectual  ideas 
and  the  truths  which  depend  upon  them  are  distinct, 
and  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  have  their  origin 
in  the  senses,  though  it  is  true  we  should  never  think 
of  them  without  the  senses."  ^ 

1  The  New  Essays,  translated  by  Alfred  Gideon  Langley,  p.  42/. 
^Ib.,  p.  45.  ^  The  New  Essays,  p.  82. 


164  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

It  appears  also  that  these  simple  ideas,  clear  and 
distinct,  because  born  of  the  reason,  contain  poten- 
tially many  necessary  truths  according  to  which  the 
very  universe  itself  is  fundamentally  determined.  If 
one  only  possesses  the  proper  insight,  it  is  possible  for 
him  to  deduce  from  the  self-illuminating  activities 
and  dispositions  of  the  reason  itself,  the  fundamental 
nature  of  the  essential  principles  which  underlie  both 
the  appearance  and  the  reality  of  the  world.  Far 
from  believing  that  knowledge  has  its  origin  from 
without  through  the  inlet  of  the  senses,  Leibniz,  on 
the  contrary,  traces  its  beginnings  to  the  sources 
which  are  hidden  in  the  depths  of  the  mind.  Truth 
is  there  held  fast  in  a  potential  state,  as  yet  undevel- 
oped and  undiscovered.  It  is  not  a  possession,  but 
a  possibility.  It  can  be  elicited,  however,  by  the 
penetrating  and  informing  power  of  thought. 

Truth,  therefore,  is  to  be  deduced  through  a 
strictly  logical  process  which  starts  with  certain 
indefinables,  that  is,  those  primary  ideas  which 
cannot  be  proved,  and,  indeed,  have  no  need  of 
proof.^  Thence,  through  various  combinations  and 
manipulations  of  these  self-evident  axioms  and  prin- 
ciples, Leibniz  believed  that  new  truths  could  be 
indefinitely  evolved,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of 
a  geometrical  method.  The  ideas  which  thus  hang 
together  admit  of  an  indefinite  elaboration. 

This  finds  a  conspicuous  illustration  in  his  Char- 
acteristica  Universalis,  which  is  a  method  of  sym- 
bolical representation  and  of  logical  calculation  by 
means  of  certain  character  symbols.  Thus  Leibniz 
endeavours  to  reduce  the  processes  of  reasoning  to 
forms  and  operations  similar  to  those  which  are 
employed  in  the  familiar  algebraical  methods,  and 

'  The  Monadology,  §  35. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  165 

with  the  expectation  of  correspondingly  fruitful  re- 
sults. When  only  twenty  years  of  age  he  published 
an  outline  of  this  method  in  his  Dissertatio  de  Arte 
Cornhinatoria.  Such  was  his  belief  in  the  utility  of 
a  symbolical  device  in  reasoning  that  he  declares: 
"If  controversies  were  to  arise,  there  would  be  no 
more  need  of  disputation  between  two  philosophers 
than  between  two  accountants.  For  it  would  sur- 
fice  for  them  to  take  their  pencils  in  their  hands, 
to  sit  down  to  their  slates,  and  to  say  to  each 
other  (with  a  friend  as  witness,  if  they  Hked),  'Let 
us  calculate.'  "  ^ 

This  conception  of  Leibniz  opened  the  way  for 
the  modern  Symbolic  Logic,  and  yet  it  never  de- 
veloped the  fruitful  results  which  its  author  had 
expected.  He  was,  throughout  his  life,  however, 
deeply  interested  in  its  possibilities,  and  was  always 
confident  that  a  completely  satisfactory  method  of 
such  a  kind  would  be  some  day  devised.^  His  belief 
in  the  possibility  of  a  procedure  of  thought  from 
primary  truths  of  an  axiomatic  character  through 
symbolic  terms  and  operations  to  an  indefinite  elabo- 
ration of  a  consistent  body  of  knowledge,  serves  to 
illustrate  in  a  pre-eminent  degree  his  peculiar  type 
of  mind.  Its  rationalistic  character  is  thus  sharply 
defined.  Unless  one  can  appreciate,  in  some 
measure  at  least,  this  habit  of  mind  which  is  "able  ' 
to  reason  in  metaphysics  and  morals  in  much  the 
same  way  as  in  geometry  and  analysis,"  it  will  be 
quite  impossible  to  understand  the  significance  of 
Leibniz's  rationalistic  point  of  view  and  method  in 

*  Die  philosophischen  Schrijten  von  G.  W.  Leibniz,  herausgeben  von 
C.  J.  Gerhardt,  Berlin,  1875-90,  vol.  VII,  p.  200.  (Subsequent  references 
to  Leibniz's  works  will  be  to  this  edition.) 

^  See  Couturat,  La  logique  de  Leibniz,  chaps.  II,  III  and  IV. 


166  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

contrast  with  the  principles  and  procedure  of  an 
empirical  philosophy. 

We  may  study  Leibniz  merely  as  a  critic  of  Locke, 
and  gain  much  by  such  an  exercise.  And  yet  we, 
on  the  other  hand,  should  lose  much  if  we  failed  to 
regard  him  also  in  reference  to  the  distinctly  con- 
structive vein  of  thought  which  characterises  his 
philosophical  writings.  It  is  necessary  to  take  this 
into  consideration  if  we  are  correctly  and  adequately 
to  estimate  the  worth  of  his  peculiar  contribution  to 
the  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Ihat  contribution,  to  put  it  briefly,  is  the  idea 
that  in  some  way  the  processes  of  thought  represent 
the  real  relations  and  connections  of  things,  and  that 
an  understanding  of  the  one  furnishes  a  suggestive 
key  to  the  nature  of  the  other.  Proceeding,  there- 
fore, to  a  more  minute  examination  of  his  philos- 
ophy, it  appears  that  its  central  doctrine  is  his  con- 
ception of  the  fundamental  nature  of  substance.  We 
have  already  observed  how  important  a  role  the  idea 
of  substance  plays  in  the  philosophy  of  Locke,  and 
that  of  Berkeley  and  of  Hume.  Leibniz's  theory  as 
to  the  characteristic  features  of  substance  was  pro- 
voked originally  by  the  complete  dissatisfaction 
which  he  felt  with  Descartes's  account  of  the  nature 
of  substance,  wherein  it  is  maintained  that  the  es- 
sence of  external  things  is  extension.  Leibniz,  on 
the  contrary,  was  convinced  that  a  substance  is  never 
an  aggregate  of  parts  such  as  the  very  idea  of  exten- 
sion, that  is,  the  idea  of  spread-outedness,  would 
seem  to  necessitate.  If  it  is  to  have  anything  more 
than  a  verbal  significance,  substance  must  possess 
some  essential  unity  in  itself.  The  idea  of  the  exten- 
sion of  matter  is  one  which  is  given  by  the  senses,  and, 
indeed,  by  the  very  grossness  of  the  senses,  and  is 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  167 

never  the  conception  which  is  the  product  of  our 
thinking  faculty;  thought  indeed  gives  a  more  pro- 
found insight.  On  this  point  Leibniz  says:  "It  can 
be  inferred  that  corporeal  substance  does  not  consist 
of  extension  or  divisibility;  for  it  will  be  admitted 
that  two  bodies  remote  from  one  another  .  .  . 
are  really  not  one  substance.  .  .  .  Now,  every  ex- 
tended mass  can  be  considered  as  composed  of  two 
or  a  thousand  others;  we  have  merely  extension  by 
contact.  From  this  point  of  view  we  shall  never 
find  a  body  of  which  we  can  say  that  it  is  truly  one 
substance.  It  will  be  always  an  aggregate  of  many. 
.  .  .  Extension  is  an  attribute  which  cannot  con- 
stitute a  complete  being;  no  action  or  change  can 
be  derived  from  it,  it  expresses  merely  the  present 
state,  but  not  at  all  the  future  or  the  past,  as  the 
notion  of  a  substance  should."  ^ 

If  the  characteristic  feature  of  matter  is  not  exten- 
sion, what  other  property  can  be  suggested  .?  Leib- 
niz insists  that  the  idea  most  intimately  associated 
in  our  minds  with  the  essential  nature  of  matter  is 
that  of  force.  Out  of  mere  extension  it  is  impossible 
to  derive  the  idea  of  motion,  and  motion  is  the  most 
conspicuous  and  constant  property  of  that  kind  of 
matter  of  which  our  type  of  minds  at  least  can  be 
cognisant.  The  observation  of  the  sensible  prop- 
erties of  matter,  however,  will  not  discover  to  us  the 
essential  nature  of  the  substance  which  underlies  all 
perceived  properties.  It  is  not  patent  to  empirical 
observation  or  experiment.  Locke  himself  concedes 
the  impossibility  of  attaining  any  true  knowledge  of 
the  nature  of  substance  through  sense  perception. 

How,  then,  does  Leibniz  reach  this  conception  of 
substance  as  a  centre  of  force  ?     By  a  method  which 

^  Die  phil.  Schriften,  II,  71. 


168  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

is  peculiarly  characteristic  of  his  general  point  of 
view  and  habit  of  mind.  It  is  not  by  outer  obser- 
vation but  by  the  inner  analysis  of  the  nature  of  his 
thought  processes  that  the  secret  is  revealed  to  him. 
His  inquiry  is  exceedingly  subtle.  It  is  an  indirect 
way  of  disclosing  the  mystery  of  nature,  as  it  is  re- 
vealed in  the  operations  of  the  mind,  for  he  is  con- 
vinced that  the  mind  forms  "a  living  mirror  of  the 
universe,"  and  that  the  necessities  of  thought  reflect 
as  well  as  determine  the  nature  of  things.  In  the 
analysis  of  our  logical  processes  it  will  be  found  that 
the  natural  form  through  which  our  thought  mani- 
fests itself  is  the  judgment,  namely,  the  form  in  which 
a  predicate  is  asserted  of  a  subject.  It  happens  that 
in  the  varied  phase's  through  which  thought  in  its 
rapid  shifting  continually  passes,  that  which  may  be 
a  subject  in  one  context  becomes  a  predicate  in 
another.  However,  there  is  an  unique  kind  of  sub- 
ject, of  which  many  predicates  may  be  asserted,  but 
it  can  never  be  considered  itself  as  a  predicate  of  any 
other  subject.  A  subject,  thus  peculiarly  constituted, 
is  the  true  type  of  substance.  Substance,  therefore, 
may  be  precisely  and  adequately  defined,  according 
to  Leibniz,  as  that  which  is  the  subject  of  all  its 
various  predicates,  but  is  itself  the  predicate  of  no 
subject.* 

Now  the  question  naturally  suggests  itself.  What 
is  the  most  perfect  illustration  of  this  description  of 
substance .?  Is  it  not  the  idea  of  the  self  which 
underlies  all  my  mental  states  ?  These  states  are 
various;  but  they  have  one  constant  object  to  which 
they  may  be  severally  referred.  I  am  a  subject  al- 
ways, and  can  never  be  properly  regarded  as  the 
mere  predicate  of  any  other  subject.     Moreover,  I 

'  Leibniz,  Schriften,  IV,  432. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  169 

have  an  intimate  and  immediate  knowledge  of  my 
own  nature,  which  I  cannot  gain  through  external 
observation  in  reference  to  any  other  object  whatso- 
ever. Therefore  the  idea  of  substance  in  general 
will  be  formed  after  the  analogy  of  the  soul,  or  self 
substance.  As  this  substance,  moreover,  is  subjected 
to  a  deeper  analysis,  it  reveals  its  innermost  nature 
as  essentially  a  force  centre.  It  is  continuously  ac- 
tive, and  the  energy  which  it  draws  from  its  inner 
springs  needs  no  re-enforcement  from  without.  The 
essential  feature  of  substance,  as  represented  by  the 
Ego,  is  its  self-originating  and  self-determining  na- 
ture. This  dynamical  quality  of  substance  Leibniz 
indicates  by  characterising  it  as  an  entelechy,  because 
in  every  substance  there  is  "a  sufficiency  (avrdp/ceia) 
which  makes  it  the  source  of  its  internal  activities."  ^ 
Every  substance,  as  an  entelechy,  therefore,  con- 
tains the  potential  power  of  its  own  development. 
And  this  characteristic  feature  of  substance  not  only 
is  revealed  by  the  direct  intuition  of  the  dynamics 
of  one's  own  spirit,  but  can  be  discovered  also  through 
a  strictly  logical  mode  of  procedure.  It  is  possible 
to  deduce  the  idea  of  the  self-sufficient  nature  of 
every  true  substance  by  a  consideration  again  of  the 
essential  function  of  the  subject-predicate  relation 
in  every  judgment.  For  every  complete  subject  com- 
prises within  itself  all  of  its  predicates.  A  true  predi- 
cate is  never  external  to  the  subject,  but  is  imphed  in 
the  nature  of  the  subject  itself,  and  falls  wholly  within 
the  circle  of  its  essential  significance.  Any  predicate 
which  may  be  regarded    as  added   to  a  subject  is 

'  The  Monadology,  §  i8. 

As  to  the  relation  of  Leibniz  entelechy  to  the  ipreX^x^^M  of  Aristotle, 
see  Robert  Latta,  Leibniz,  The  Monadology  and  Other  Philosophical 
Writings,  p.  229,  footnote. 


170  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

artificially  related  to  such  a  subject,  and  is  so  far 
forth  unreal.  If  our  knowledge  of  any  subject  were 
complete,  then  an  analysis  of  its  concept  in  all  of  its 
properties  and  implications  would  reveal  all  of  its 
predicates.  Therefore,  as  Leibniz  declares,  inas- 
much as  every  true  predication  has  some  foundation 
in  the  nature  of  things,  every  substance  will  be  found 
to  partake  of  this  characteristic  feature  of  a  subject 
after  the  manner  of  the  logical  necessities  of  thought. 
Consequently,  every  substance  is  self-contained.  It 
has  within  it  the  potential  of  whatever  actual  mani- 
festation it  may  ever  exhibit.  Every  substance, 
therefore,  has  its  own  individuality  completely 
marked,  and  sharply  differentiated.  In  their  ulti- 
mate elements  things  are  as  individual  as  persons. 
And  these  elements  of  the  world,  self-sufficient  and 
self-determined  in  their  power  of  initiative  and  ca- 
pacity of  resourceful  originality,  Leibniz  designates 
by  the  name  of  Monads} 

Leibniz's  Monadology  contains  a  complete  descrip- 
tion of  the  nature  of  the  monads.  In  this  account 
the  monad  is  represented  as  the  unit  of  substance, 
but  with  an  intensive  rather  than  an  extensive  nature. 
No  two  monads  are  alike,  and  every  one,  true  to  its 
individual  character,  is  a  little  world  within  itself. 
It  preserves  its  own  unity  in  the  midst  of  the  never- 
ceasing  flux  in  which  the  various  phases  of  its  activity 
are  constantly  occurring.  According  to  the  fundamen- 
tal principle  of  Leibniz's  philosophical  method,  that 
the  nature  of  the  logical  processes  is  a  key  to  the  na- 
ture of  reality,  the  monad  in  respect  to  its  unity  finds 

'  The  term  monad  Leibniz  did  not  borrow  from  Giordano  Bruno, 
as  is  commonly  supposed,  but  from  one  of  Leibniz's  own  contempo- 
raries, Francois  Mercure  van  Helmont  (1816-99).  For  a  detailed  treat- 
ment of  the  whole  subject,  see  L.  Stern,  Leibniz  und  Spinoza,  chap. 
VL  pp.  111-219,  also  the  New  Essays,  p.  loi,  footnote. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  171 

a  corresponding  prototype  in  the  essential  features 
of  the  logical  concept,  which  always  expresses  a  unity 
in  the  midst  of  variety,  or  an  identity  in  difference. 

Leibniz  graphically  expresses  the  self-sufficiency 
of  the  monad  in  declaring  that  "it  has  no  windows."  ^ 
The  meaning  of  this  is,  that  nothing  contributes  to 
the  nature  of  the  monad  from  without;  on  the  con- 
trary, the  monad  contains  in  its  own  being  the 
promise  and  potency  of  its  complete  development. 
It  not  only  contains  within  itself  power  for  all  its 
activity,  but  the  forecast  of  its  history  as  well.  The 
differences,  moreover,  which  exist  among  the  various 
monads  are  intrinsic;  they  are  not  like  the  atoms, 
which  are  supposed,  after  the  manner  of  the 
ancient  philosophy,  to  vary  according  to  differences 
of  position  in  time  and  space,  and  also  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  combinations  into  which  it  is 
possible  for  them  to  enter.^ 

The  theory  that  the  individuality  of  the  monad  is 
determined  by  an  "internal  principle  of  distinction'* 
and  not  by  external  circumstance,  Leibniz  defends 
by  his  closely  related  theory  of  the  identity  of  indis- 
cernibles^  namely,  that  "things  qualitatively  undis- 
tinguishable  are  absolutely  identical,  and  therefore 
would  not  count  as  different  things,  but  really  one 
and  the  same  thing."  This  principle  of  Leibniz  is 
a  corollary  of  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason.  As 
he  himself  says  of  it:  "I  infer  from  that  principle 
[that  of  sufficient  reason],  among  other  consequences, 
that  there  are  not  in  nature  two  real,  absolute  beings, 
indiscernible  from  each  other;  because  if  there  were, 
God  and  nature  would  act  without  reason  in  ordering 
the  one  otherwise  than  the  other."  ^ 

'  Monadology  §  7.  ^  The  New  Essays,  p.  238/. 

^  Schriften,  VII,  393 


172  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Thus  Leibniz  proves  that  every  monad  must  pos- 
sess an  individuaHty  due  to  an  inherent  principle  of 
inner  distinction.  Moreover,  as  the  monad  experi- 
ences change,  and  passes  from  one  state  to  another, 
this  is  due  to  its  constitutional  appetition,  as  Leibniz 
calls  it — that  is,  an  inner  tendency  to  realise  the 
full  measure  of  its  possibilities;  consequently  the 
monad  proceeds  fron^  change  to  change  in  a  course 
of  progressive  development.  When  such  a  tendency 
appears  in  a  monad  attended  with  consciousness,  it  is 
then  akin  to  desire.^ 

In  the  process  of  development,  moreover,  every 
present  state  of  a  simple  substance  is  a  natural  con- 
sequence of  its  preceding  states,  so  that  "every  present 
is  big  v^ith  its  future."  Consequently  every  monad 
is  determined  solely  by  what  it  is  and  never  by  what 
may  happen  to  it.  Its  progress  is  necessary  and  not 
contingent,  because  its  store  of  energy,  its  impulse 
and  directive  force,  are  all  from  within. 

The  question  at  this  point  may  be  very  properly 
asked:  If  every  monad  is  driven  by  an  inner  power, 
and  unaffected  by  the  forces  which  may  play  upon  it 
from  without,  how,  then,  is  it  possible  to  explain  the 
evident  interconnection  and  interaction  between  the 
various  phenomena  of  nature .?  To  this,  Leibniz 
would  reply:  "In  the  case  of  simple  substances,  the 
influence  which  one  monad  has  upon  another  is  only 
ideal.  It  can.  have  its  effect  only  through  the  media- 
tion of  God,  in  so  far  as,  in  the  ideas  of  God,  each 
monad  can  rightly  claim  that  God,  in  regulating 
others  from  the  beginning  of  things,  should  have 
regarded  it  also.  For,  since  one  created  monad 
cannot  have  a  physical  influence  upon  the  inner 
being   of   another,   it    is   only  through   this   primal 

*  Monadology,  §  15. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  173 

regulation  that  one  can  be  dependent  upon  the 
other."  ^ 

While  Leibniz  holds  that  the  monads  have  no 
windows,  this  statement  cannot  be  interpreted  in  a 
literal  manner;  for  each  monad  after  all  has  a  single 
window  opening  to  the  light  above;  and  each  monad 
is  dependent  upon  this  light  as  a  principle  of  life 
which  streams  into  its  being  from  the  supreme  Monad, 
God.  While  independent  of  all  others,  the  monad 
nevertheless  has  its  origin  and  support  in  the  divine 
Monad. 

The  independence,  however,  of  one  monad  as  re- 
gards another  does  not  signify  in  the  least  that  the 
several  monads  are  out  of  all  relation  one  to  another. 
On  the  contrary,  they  are  most  intimately  connected 
in  the  following  manner:  Each  monad  in  itself  is  a 
"perpetual  living  mirror  of  the  universe,"  ^  as  Leibniz 
puts  it. 

Each  monad,  in  its  way,  expresses  a  certain  phase 
of  the  universe.  That  phase  may  be  very  insignifi- 
cant, and  yet  it  is  so  much  a  part  of  the  "scheme  of 
things  entire"  that  if  perfectly  known  it  would  in- 
evitably lead  the  thought  by  necessary  implication 
to  the  part  most  intimately  connected  with  it,  and 
that  in  turn  to  another  and  another  without  limit, 
until  the  widening  circles  of  knowledge  would  com- 
prehend the  universe.  Each  monad  is  in  this  sense 
a  microcosm,  so  that  whatever  is  particular  in  any 
one  substance  is  at  the  same  time  common  to  all. 
This  function  which  every  simple  substance  exer- 
cises, of  expressing  in  its  own  nature  some  phase  of 
the  great  world, without,  Leibniz  calls  the  faculty  of 
perception.  This  term  is  used  in  a  most  compre- 
hensive sense,  including  not  only  the  processes  of 

*  Monadology  §  51.  ^  lb.,  §  56. 

/ 


174  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

consciousness  through  which  we  are  aware  of  the 
world  about  us  and  ourselves  as  well,  but  also  the 
various  modes  in  which  also  mere  unconscious  things 
may  reflect  in  their  own  natures  the  larger  world  of 
which  they  are  through  this  very  capacity  an  integral 
part.  In  reference  to  this  function  of  "expression" 
or  "perception,"  Leibniz  declares  that  "God  at  first 
so  created  the  soul,  or  any  other  real  unity,  that  every- 
thing must  arise  in  it  from  its  own  inner  nature,  with 
a  perfect  spontaneity  as  regards  itself,  and  yet  with 
a  perfect  conformity  to  things  outside  of  it.  .  .  .  And 
accordingly,  since  each  of  these  substances  accurately 
represents  the  whole  universe  in  its  own  way  and 
from  a  certain  point  of  view,  and  the  perceptions  or 
expressions  of  external  things  come  into  the  soul  at 
their  appropriate  time,  in  virtue  of  its  own  laws,  as 
in  a  world  by  itself,  and  as  if  there  existed  nothing 
but  God  and  the  soul,  .  .  .  there  will  be  a  perfect 
agreement  between  all  these  substances,  which  will 
have  the  same  result  as  if  they  had  a  communication 
with  one  another  by  a  transmission  of  species  or 
qualities,  such  as  the  mass  of  ordinary  philosophers 
suppose."  * 

Not  only  are  there  these  expressive  "perceptions" 
throughout  the  universe  of  things;  but  also  among 
persons  as  well  there  are  determining  forces  in  con- 
sciousness, though  we  ourselves  may  be  unconscious 
of  them,  which  partake  of  the  nature  of  actual  "per- 
ceptions" themselves.  Of  these  Leibniz  speaks  as 
follows:  "There  are  a  thousand  indications  which 
make  us  think  that  there  are,  at  every  moment,  an 
infinite  number  of  perceptions  in  us,  but  without  ap- 
perception and  reflection,  /.  e.y  changes  in  the  soul 
itself  of  which  we  are  not  conscious,  because  the  im- 

•  Schrijten,  IV,  484. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  175 

pressions  are  either  too  slight  and  too  great  in  number, 
or  too  even,  so  that  they  have  nothing  sufficiently 
marked  to  distinguish  them  from  each  other;  but 
joined  to  others,  they  do  not  fail  to  produce  their 
effect  and  to  make  themselves  felt  at  least  confusedly 
in  the  mass.  .  .  .  These  minute  perceptions  are, 
then,  of  greater  efficacy  in  their  results  than  one  sup- 
poses. They  form  I  know  not  what — these  tastes, 
these  images  of  the  sense  qualities,  clear  in  the  mass 
but  confused  in  the  parts,  these  impressions  which 
surrounding  bodies  make  upon  us,  which  involve  the 
infinite,  this  connection  which  each  being  has  with 
all  the  rest  of  the  universe.  We  may  even  say  that 
in  consequence  of  these  minute  perceptions,  the  pres- 
ent is  big  with  the  future  and  laden  with  the  past, 
that  all  things  conspire  together  (avf^irvoia  irdvra  as 
Hippocrates  said),  and  that  in  the  least  of  sub- 
stances eyes  as  penetrating  as  those  of  God  could 
read  the  whole  course  of  the  universe. 

"Quae  sint,  quae  fuerint,  quae  mox  futura  trahantur."  ^ 

This  doctrine  of  representation,  according  to  which 
one  monad  may  express  the  nature  of  another,  and  in- 
deed of  all  others,  was  naturally  suggested  to  Leibniz 
by  his  mathematical  studies  and  habit  of  mind.  He 
relates  the  monads  one  to  another  after  the  analogy  of 
the  various  properties  of  geometrical  figures  such  as 
the  circle  or  ellipse.  Every  property  of  a  circle,  for  in- 
stance, so  adequately  expresses  the  nature  of  the  circle 
as  a  whole,  that  if  any  one  property  should  be  given, 
all  the  others  could  be  deduced  from  it.  In  this  sense 
every  property  reflects  in  itself  all  the  others.  Any 
one  can  be  taken  as  a  correct  definition  of  the  circle 
itself.     In  a  similar  manner   precisely,  the  various 

>  New  Essays,  p.  47  /. 


176  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

parts  of  the  universe  so  hang  together  that  any  one 
is  a  representation  in  a  certain  sense  of  all  the  others. 
The  implication  is  not  always  obvious,  nor  do  we 
ever  comprehend  its  full  significance.  A  monad  re- 
flects or  expresses  only  that  part  of  the  whole  of 
things  which  lies  nearest  to  it,  and  is  by  nature  most 
intimately  associated  with  it.  All  beyond  is  confused 
and  obscure,  and  yet  connected  by  necessary  rela- 
tions. To  the  mind  of  God  alone,  the  Monas 
monadurriy  does  every  other  monad  reveal  its  secret, 
and  the  secret  of  each  one  is,  in  its  own  peculiar 
way,  the  secret  of  the  universe. 

The  particular  relation  which  seems  to  connect 
things  together  by  some  external  bond,  namely,  that 
of  cause  and  effect,  Leibniz  explains  merely  as  a 
particular  instance  of  his  general  theory  of  repre- 
sentative function.  Both  cause  and  effect  being  the 
result  of  an  inner  activity  in  each  case,  the  one  can- 
not be  regarded  as  acting  upon  the  other.  The  re- 
lation which  they  sustain  to  one  another,  as  we 
observe  them,  is  the  noticeable  difference  in  capacity 
between  the  two,  of  expressing  the  nature  of  the 
universe  of  which  they  are  parts.  The  substance 
whose  inner  change  brings  about  the  more  complete 
representation  of  the  universe  is  to  be  regarded  as 
active,  /.  e.y  the  cause;  the  other,  whose  inner  change 
brings  about  a  less  complete  expression,  is  to  be  re- 
garded as  passive  or  being  acted  upon,  /.  e.,  the 
effect.^ 

Causation,  therefore,  in  this  view  of  it,  is  a  process 
of  striking  the  balance  between  two  substances  as 
regards  their  relative  capacity  to  manifest  through 
the  channels  of  their  own  nature  the  world  of  which 
they  are  both  essential  parts. 

1  Discourse  on  Metaphysics,  §15. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  177 

While  every  monad  is  instinct  with  the  life  of 
God,  whether  consciously  or  unconsciously,  as  the 
case  may  be,  still  the  conscious  manifestation  is  of  a 
superior  order  to  that  which  occurs  in  the  various 
forms  of  the  inanimate  nature,  and  through  the  en- 
tire range  of  the  lower  phases  of  animal  life.  There 
is,  therefore,  a  certain  hierarchy  of  substances,  inas- 
much as  "the  virtue  of  a  particular  substance  is  to 
express  well  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  better  it  ex- 
presses it,  the  less  is  it  limited."  * 

Leibniz  elaborates  this  idea  more  in  detail  in 
the  following  notable  passage:  "For  assuredly  spir- 
its are  the  most  perfect  of  substances,  and  best  ex- 
press the  divinity.  Since  all  the  nature,  purpose, 
virtue  and  function  of  substances  is,  as  has  been 
sufficiently  explained,  to  express  God  and  the  uni- 
verse, there  is  no  room  for  doubting  that  those  sub- 
stances which  give  the  expression,  and  are  at  the 
same  time  conscious  of  it  and  consequently  are  able 
to  understand  the  great  truths  about  God  and  the 
universe,  do  express  God  and  the  universe  incom- 
parably better  than  do  those  natures  which  are  either 
brutish  and  incapable  of  recognising  truths,  or  are 
wholly  destitute  of  sensation  and  knowledge.  The 
difference  between  intelligent  substances  and  those 
which  are  not  intelligent  is  quite  as  great  as  between 
a  mirror  and  one  who  sees."  ^ 

In  this  account  which  Leibniz  gives  of  the  nature 
of  the  monad  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  comprehend 
how  each  single  monad  can  exercise  a  complete  in- 
dependence in  all  of  its  varied  activities,  and  yet  at  the 
same  time  be  capable  of  reflecting  in  itself  all  the 
changes  which  occur  in  the  monads  directly  associ- 
ated with  it,  and,  indeed,  in  all  other  monads  also, 

'  Discourse  on  Metaphysics,  §  15.  ^  lb.,  §  35. 


178  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

though  in  an  indirect  manner  and,  it  may  be,  in 
an  inappreciable  degree.  In  other  words,  how  is 
it  possible  to  reconcile  inner  spontaneity  with  co- 
ordinate activity  ?  To  such  a  problem  Leibniz  finds 
the  appropriate  solution  in  his  doctrine  of  pre-estab- 
lished harmony.  This  doctrine  also  has  its  origin  in 
certain  fundamental  principles  of  mathematics.  In 
his  mathematical  studies  Leibniz  had  become  familiar 
with  the  device  of  regarding  two  wholly  independent 
systems  of  relations  from  a  common  point  of  view, 
in  such  a  manner  that  every  relation  of  one  system 
is  capable  of  suggesting  and  expressing  a  correspond- 
ing relation  in  the  other.  The  two  systems,  there- 
fore, can  be  regarded  throughout  as  functionally 
co-ordinated.  The  conspicuous  illustration  of  func- 
tional co-ordination  in  mathematics  is  the  method  of 
the  Cartesian  geometry,  by  means  of  which  all  geo- 
metrical relations  find  their  appropriate  expression 
in  the  algebraical.  In  the  theory  of  the  co-ordinate 
geometry,  the  various  figures  and  their  properties 
may  be  represented  by  algebraical  equations,  which 
correspond  to  them  not  only  in  a  general  way  but 
also  in  all  minuteness  of  detail.  Such  an  equation 
as  x^  +  y^  =  36  represents  a  circle,  in  the  sense  that 
every  property  of  this  equation  is  an  exact  represen- 
tation of  a  corresponding  property  of  a  circle,  so  that 
we  can  study  the  nature  of  a  circle  indirectly  by  in- 
vestigating the  characteristic  features  of  its  equation 
and  interpreting  them  in  terms  of  their  geometrical 
concomitants.  Moreover,  if  in  the  given  equation  of 
the  circle,  we  imagine  certain  changes  to  occur,  so 
that  it  appears  now  as  4x^  +  Qy^  =  36,  instead  of  sim- 
ply x^  +  y^  =  36  as  before,  then  the  transformed  equa- 
tion no  longer  represents  a  circle,  but  an  ellipse. 
Conceive   this   new  equation   to  undergo   an   addi- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  179 

tional  change,  this  time  simply  a  change  of  sign  from 
plus  to  minus,  then  the  equation  thus  modified, 
4X^  —  9y^  =  36,  now  represents  an  hyperbola. 

Thus  every  change,  however  slight,  in  the  one  sys- 
tem represents  a  corresponding  change  in  the  other, 
which  is  precisely  co-ordinated  with  it.  Obviously 
the  two  systems  are  independent,  and  yet  completely 
interrelated.  No  one  would  think  of  saying  that  a 
change  in  one  system  causes  a  change  in  the  other. 
The  notion  of  a  functional  relation  such  as  this  is 
merely  that  of  suggestive  representation.  It  would 
be  absurd  to  conceive  of  any  cause  and  effect  relation 
which  could  possibly  obtain  between  an  algebraical 
modification  of  an  equation  and  a  corresponding  spa- 
tial change  in  the  nature  of  a  circle  or  an  ellipse,  in 
the  sense  that  the  one  becomes,  in  some  mysterious 
manner,  transformed  into  the  other.  While  there  is 
no  underlying  causal  connection  between  the  two  sys- 
tems of  relations,  there  is,  however,  an  exceedingly 
nice  adjustment.  This  adjustment  has  been  called 
a  functional  co-ordination.  This  is  merely  the  math- 
ematical phrase  for  the  concept  of  pre-established 
harmony.  The  harmony  between  the  algebraical 
and  geometrical  systems  of  relations  is  not  artificial 
or  arbitrary.  It  is  one  which  grows  out  of  the 
fundamental  nature  of  the  two  sets  of  relations  them- 
selves. By  their  very  nature  they  admit  of  an  exact 
co-ordination.  And  it  is  in  this  sense  that  Leibniz 
uses  the  term  pre-established;  all  concomitance  of 
relations  may  be  traced  back  to  an  inherent  com- 
mon basis  in  the  heart  of  things  which  show  the 
possibilities  of  co-ordinate  development. 

The  doctrine  of  pre-established  harmony,  there- 
fore, is  to  be  regarded  in  the  first  instance  as  Leib- 
niz's explanation  of  the  relations  which  the  monads 


180  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

in  general  sustain  one  to  another.  The  activity  of 
every  monad  is  thus  functionally  co-ordinated  with 
every  other.  A  change  in  one  expresses  a  change  in 
the  others  after  the  same  manner  that  a  modification 
of  an  algebraical  equation  by  changing  a  plus  to  a 
minus  sign  expresses  the  series  of  characteristic  dif- 
ferences betv^een  the  fundamental  nature  of  an  ellipse 
and  that  of  an  hyperbola.  It  is  in  this  sense  that 
every  monad  is  "a  mirror  of  the  universe."  Its  own 
inner  changes  are  functionally  co-ordinated  with  other 
corresponding  possible  changes  throughout  the  whole 
range  of  created  substances.  Thus  Leibniz  would 
explain  the  striking  paradox  of  his  philosophy — the 
attempt  to  show  how  universal  order  can  be  con- 
served by  the  most  extreme  form  of  individualism. 

In  the  telegraphic  apparatus  for  the  transmission 
of  wireless  messages,  the  discharging  instrument 
must  be  "toned"  to  an  exact  correspondence  with 
the  receiving  instrument.  The  two  must  be  accu- 
rately "syntonised,"  or  no  message  can  be  trans- 
mitted. This  is  only  a  sort  of  pre-established  har- 
mony. One  instrument  expresses  the  symbolical 
message  which  is  sent  forth  from  the  other  because 
there  is  the  possibility  of  intelligible  co-ordination 
based  upon  the  common  "tone."  So  also  in  every 
system  of  symbols  which  serve  to  express  certain 
ideas  corresponding  to  them  there  is  an  illustration 
again  of  the  relation  of  pre-established  harmony,  the 
most  perfect  example  of  this  being  the  comprehen- 
sively co-ordinated  system  of  relations  between  thought 
and  language.  Every  change  in  words,  and  in  the 
indefinite  variety  of  combinations  which  they  may 
form,  expresses  varying  shades  of  meaning  in  the 
corresponding  thought.  The  idea  of  a  pre-estab- 
lished harmony,  therefore,  among  the  monads  signi- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  181 

fies  a  co-ordination  of  a  similar  kind,  so  that  any 
change  of  relation  experienced  by  any  one  can  be 
regarded  as  representing  possible  changes  in  some 
or  all  of  the  others,  provided  only  that  the  key  of 
interpretation  be  known.  In  an  unknown  language, 
whose  sounds  convey  to  our  ears  no  intelligible  mes- 
sage, there  is  nevertheless  a  pre-established  harmony 
of  sound  and  thought  in  every  uttered  syllable.  We 
who  are  ignorant  of  the  language  fail  to  comprehend 
its  meaning.  So,  also,  if  we  only  could  understand 
the  language,  we  might  be  able  also  to  understand, 
through  the  significant  symboHsm  of  nature,  the 
mystery  of  God,  of  the  world  and  of  man. 

Not  only  does  Leibniz  attempt  to  explain  the 
general  nature  of  the  monads  in  their  relation  one  to 
another,  by  his  doctrine  of  pre-established  harmony, 
but  he  also  applies  it  to  certain  special  relations  as 
well,  in  which  his  theory  seems  to  be  conspicuously 
illustrated. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  relation  of  mind  to  body. 
Of  these  two  intimately  associated  parts  of  our  being, 
each  is  a  closed  system.  Changes  in  bodily  states 
are  caused  solely  by  preceding  bodily  states;  like- 
wise changes  in  mind  by  preceding  mental  states. 
Each  is,  after  its  own  manner,  sufficient  unto  itself, 
and  the  one  does  not  in  any  sense  act  upon  the  other; 
mind  cannot  produce  physical  effects,  and  the  body 
cannot  of  itself  produce  mental  effects.  Each,  how- 
ever, in  the  development  of  its  own  distinct  activities, 
expresses,  in  every  possible  change  which  is  due  to  its 
own  inherent  nature,  a  corresponding  change  in  the 
other.  The  two  are  functionally  co-ordinated.  Ev- 
ery relation  which  exists  in  the  one  series  has  a  defi- 
nite significance  when  interpreted  in  terms  of  the 
other.     Of  this   co-ordination   of  mind    and    body, 


182  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Leibniz  says:  "We  can  also  see  the  explanation  of 
that  great  mystery  'the  union  of  the  soul  and  the 
body/  that  is  to  say,  how  it  comes  about  that  the 
passions  and  actions  of  the  one  are  accompanied  by 
the  actions  and  passions  or  else  the  appropriate 
phenomena  of  the  other.  For  it  is  not  possible  to 
conceive  how  one  can  have  an  influence  upon  the 
other,  and  it  is  unreasonable  to  have  recourse  at  once 
to  the  extraordinary  intervention  of  the  universal 
cause  in  an  ordinary  and  particular  case.  The  fol- 
lowing, however,  is  the  true  explanation:  We  have 
said  that  everything  which  happens  to  a  soul  or  to 
any  substance  is  a  consequence  of  its  concept;  hence 
the  idea  itself  or  the  essence  of  the  soul  brings  it  about 
that  all  of  its  appearances  or  perceptions  should  be 
produced  out  of  its  own  nature,  and  precisely  in  such 
a  way  that  they  correspond  of  themselves  to  that 
which  happens  in  the  universe  at  large,  but  more 
particularly  and  more  perfectly  to  that  which  hap- 
pens in  the  body  associated  with  it,  because  it  is  in  a 
particular  way  and  only  for  a  certain  time  according 
to  the  relation  of  other  bodies  to  its  own  body,  that 
the  soul  expresses  the  state  of  the  universe.  This 
last  fact  enables  us  to  see  how  our  body  belongs  to 
us,  without,  however,  being  attached  to  our  essence. 
I  believe  that  those  who  are  careful  thinkers  will  de- 
cide favourably  for  our  principles  because  of  this 
single  reason,  viz.:  that  they  are  able  to  see  in  that 
which  constitutes  the  relation  between  the  soul  and 
the  body,  a  parallelism  which  appears  inexplicable 
in  any  other  way."  ^ 

In  this  significant  passage  the  relation  between  soul 
and  body  is  stated  as  a  special  and  peculiar  case  of 
the  soul's  relation  to  the  universe  at  large,  and  may 

*  Discourse  on  Metaphysics,  §  2t2t' 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  183 

be  regarded,  therefore,  as  a  kind  of  corollary  to  the 
main  doctrine  of  pre-estabHshed  harmony.  It  is  also 
of  interest  to  note  that  Leibniz  regards  the  co-ordinate 
relations  of  body  and  of  soul  as  constituting  a  kind  of 
"parallelism.'*  This  is  a  foreshadowing,  not  only  in 
name  but  in  significance  as  well,  of  that  psycho- 
physical parallelism  which  was  first  suggested  by 
Spinoza,  and  which  has  been  so  fruitfully  developed 
in  modern  times. 

The  seeming  reaction  between  mind  and  body  is 
explained  by  Leibniz  along  the  lines  of  his  general 
theory  concerning  the  nature  of  causation.  When  a 
change  in  one  monad  is  capable  of  explaining  a 
change  in  another,  the  first  is  said  to  be  active,  the 
second  passive,  activity  and  passivity  being  wholly 
relative  characterisations.  Moreover,  as  monads 
differ  in  clearness  of  perception,  and  those  which 
have  the  clearer  perceptions  are  the  more  active, 
therefore  the  soul  having  clear  perceptions  is  more 
active  than  the  body  in  this  sense,  and  therefore  can 
be  said  to  act  upon  the  body  and  dominate  it.  More- 
over, so  far  as  the  soul  is  perfect  and  has  clear  per- 
ceptions the  body  is  subject  to  it,  but  in  so  far  as  it 
is  imperfect  it  is  subject  to  the  body.^  This  is  in 
accordance  with  the  general  principle  of  Leibniz 
that  the  "domination  and  subordination  of  monads, 
considered  in  the  monads  themselves,  consists  only 
in  the  degrees  of  their  perfections."  ^ 

There  is,  moreover,  a  second  special  case  which 
illustrates  the  doctrine  of  pre-established  harmony, 
namely,  the  co-ordinate  relations  which  exist  between 
the  two  spheres  of  efficient  and  final  causes.  As  a 
result  of  the  pre-established  harmony  between  soul 
and  body,  Leibniz  finds  a  resulting  harmony  between 

'Schriften,  VI,  138.  ^  lb.,  II,  451. 


184  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

these  two  kinds  of  causation,  inasmuch  as  efficient 
causes  have  to  do  with  the  activities  of  the  body,  and 
final  causes,  on  the  other  hand,  represent  the  pur- 
poses of  the  mind.  "Souls,"  says  Leibniz,  "act  in 
accordance  with  the  laws  of  final  causes  through 
their  appetitions,  ends  and  means.  Bodies  act  in 
accordance  with  the  laws  of  efficient  causes  or  mo- 
tions. The  two  realms,  that  of  efficient  causes  and 
that  of  final  causes,  are  in  harmony  with  one  an- 
other." ' 

There  is  still  another  case  of  pre-established  har- 
mony, that  which  obtains  between  the  world  of  nature 
and  the  world  of  the  divine  purposes.  It  is,  indeed, 
merely  an  illustration  in  its  most  comprehensive  form 
of  the  general  relation  of  efficient  to  final  causes. 
There  is  a  world  of  a  moral  and  spiritual  order 
which  has  its  being  within  the  world  of  nature. 
This  inner  world  of  moral  order  and  purpose  Leib- 
niz very  significantly  calls  the  "city  of  God."  "As 
we  established  above,"  says  he,  "that  there  is  a  per- 
fect harmony  between  the  two  natural  realms  of 
efficient  and  final  causes,  it  will  be  in  place  here  to 
point  out  another  harmony  which  appears  between 
the  physical  realm  of  nature  and  the  moral  realm  of 
grace,  that  is  to  say,  between  God,  considered  as  the 
architect  of  the  mechanism  of  the  universe,  and  God 
considered  as  the  Monarch  of  the  divine  city  of 
spirits."  ^ 

In  this  atterript  to  reconcile  the  spheres  of  efficient 
and  final  causes,  Leibniz  gives  the  promise  at  least 
of  effecting  a  synthesis  between  the  empirical  and 
rationalistic  points  of  view.  He  emphasises  the 
point  that  the  one  cannot  be  considered  solely  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  other.     In  a  letter  to  M.  Remond 

'  Monadology,  §  79.  ^  lb.,  §  87. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  185 

(17 14)  he  states  most  clearly  the  complementary  re- 
lations of  these  two  methods  of  thought:  "I  have 
found  that  most  of  the  philosophical  sects  are  right 
in  a  good  part  of  what  they  maintain,  but  not  to  the 
same  extent  in  what  they  deny.  The  Formalists, 
such  as  the  Platonists  and  the  Aristotelians,  are  right 
in  seeking  the  source  of  things  in  final  and  formal 
causes.  But  they  err  in  neglecting  efficient  and  ma- 
terial causes  and  in  inferring  (as  did  Mr.  Henry 
More  in  England,  and  some  other  Platonists)  that 
there  are  phenomena  which  cannot  be  explained  on 
mechanical  principles.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
Materialists,  or  those  who  hold  exclusively  to  the 
mechanical  philosophy,  err  in  setting  aside  meta- 
physical considerations  and  in  trying  to  explain 
everything  by  that  which  is  dependent  on  the  imagi- 
nation. I  flatter  myself  that  I  have  discovered  the 
harmony  of  the  different  systems,  and  have  seen  that 
both  sides  are  right,  provided  they  do  not  clash  with 
one  another;  that  in  the  phenomena  of  nature  every- 
thing happens  mechanically  and  at  the  same  time 
metaphysically,  but  that  the  source  of  the  mechanical 
is  in  the  metaphysical."  ^ 

While  all  credit  must  be  given  to  Leibniz  for 
his  discerning  insight  in  insisting  that  these  two 
methods  of  interpreting  the  phenomena  of  nature 
must  be  regarded  as  mutually  complementary,  never- 
theless, the  harmony  which  he  declared  assuredly 
characterises  the  different  systems,  he  himself  never 
adequately  established  or  satisfactorily  revealed.  For, 
after  all,  any  real  reconciliation  after  the  manner  of  a 
direct  synthesis  of  these  two  spheres  of  being  was  alto- 
gether impossible  according  to  the  central  doctrine  of 
Leibniz*s  philosophy.     For  in  general  he  does  not 

'  Schrijten,  III,  607. 


186  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

allow  the  possibility  of  any  substance  acting  upon  any 
other  whatsoever,  and,  particularly,  nothing  really 
affects  the  substance  we  call  mind  from  without. 

Moreover,  Leibniz  is  very  careful  to  define  with  a 
nicety  of  precision  the  particular  sense  in  which  it  can 
be  correctly  said  that  our  knowledge  is  received  by 
us  from  external  sources.  It  is  in  the  sense  merely,  he 
distinctly  states,  that  "certain  exterior  things  contain, 
or  express  more  particularly,  the  causes  which  de- 
termine us  to  certain  thoughts."  ^ 

The  empirical  elements  in  knowledge,  the  material 
of  fact  which  is  given  in  sense  perception,  Leibniz 
regards  merely  as  thought  in  a  confused  and  obscure 
form,  the  adumbration  of  a  truth  which  comes  to  an 
adequate  revelation  only  in  the  clear  light  of  reason. 
That  which  seems  to  be  presented  to  us  from  without 
must  not  be  regarded  as  so  much  crude  material  upon 
which  the  reason  works,  and  out  of  which  it  constructs 
ideas  as  the  finished  product.  On  the  contrary, 
Leibniz  very  emphatically  maintained  that  there  are 
in  the  intellect  itself  such  traces  of  the  world  without, 
of  its  laws  and  its  organisation,  the  lines  of  its  prog- 
ress, and  the  measure  of  its  possibilities,  that,  what- 
ever the  material  may  be  which  is  presented  to  it 
through  the  senses,  it  is  already  anticipated,  in  its 
inner  significance  at  least,  by  certain  elements,  native 
to  the  nature  of  thought  itself,  which  lie  concealed 
in  a  potential  state  within  the  deeper  recesses  of  the 
mind.  This  idea  Leibniz  explicitly  develops  in  the 
following  paragraph:  "Nothing  can  be  taught  us  of 
which  we  have  not  already  in  our  minds  the  idea. 
This  idea  is  as  it  were  the  material  out  of  which  the 
thought  will  form  itself.  This  is  what  Plato  has 
excellently  brought  out  in  his  doctrine  of  reminis- 

'  Discourse  on  Metaphysics,  §  27. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  187 

cence,  a  doctrine  which  contains  a  great  deal  of 
truth,  provided  that  it  is  properly  understood  and 
purged  of  the  error  of  pre-existence,  and  provided 
that  one  does  not  conceive  of  the  soul  as  having 
already  known  and  thought  at  some  other  time  what 
it  learns  and  thinks  now."  ^ 

In  every  perception,  therefore,  according  to  Leib- 
niz, there  is  a  supra-sensible  element  which  consti- 
tutes its  reality.  Every  observation  of  sensible  fact 
must  be  interpreted,  consequently,  in  terms  of  the  idea 
which  it  awakens.  Leibniz  thus  places  the  weight 
of  his  emphasis  upon  a  rationalistic  view  of  things. 
Facts  are  the  symbolical  expressions  of  ideas,  in 
some  such  a  fashion  as  the  mere  physical  lines  and 
set  of  a  face  express  a  man's  character. 

Moreover,  Leibniz  regards  the  object  of  knowl- 
edge as  never  immediately  known,  or  connected 
with  the  observing  mind  by  any  direct  process  what- 
soever. Between  what  is  given  in  perception  and 
what  is  perceived,  therefore,  there  is  no  possibility 
of  a  genuine  synthesis.  The  two  terms  are  harmo- 
nised only  in  an  indirect  manner,  so  far  forth  as  each 
is  functionally  co-ordinated  with  the  other  according 
to  the  fundamental  principle  of  things  in  the  universe 
at  large.  There  is  a  relation,  therefore,  between  the 
external  world  and  the  observing  thought  only  as 
each  has  the  capacity  to  "express"  the  nature  of  God 
and  the  universe,  and  thus  each  indirectly  to  express 
the  nature  of  the  other.  Indeed,  Leibniz  reminds 
us  of  Berkeley,  and  actually  speaks  his  language 
in  the  doctrine  of  divine  concurrence  within  the 
process  of  sense  perception  itself.  "We  may  say, 
therefore,  that  God  is  for  us  the  only  immediate  ex- 
ternal object  and  that  we  see  things  through  him. 

'  Discourse  on  Metaphysics,  §  26. 


188  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

For  example,  when  we  see  the  sun  or  the  stars,  it  is 
God  who  gives  to  us  and  preserves  in  us  the  ideas, 
and  whenever  our  senses  are  affected  according  to 
his  own  laws  in  a  certain  manner  it  is  he  who,  by  his 
continual  concurrence,  determines  our  thinking."  ^ 

It  is,  after  all,  no  direct  and  real  synthesis  of  sub- 
ject and  object — to  come  to  a  knowledge  of  nature 
through  the  intervention  of  God.  Leibniz  in  reality 
holds  nature  and  the  observing  mind  quite  apart, 
and  a  divine  mediation  alone  serves  to  bring  them 
into  relation. 

While  the  actual  synthesis  of  the  empirical  and 
rational  elements  was  attempted  by  Kant  in  a 
more  direct  manner,  and  with  more  satisfactory  re- 
sults than  Leibniz  had  attained,  yet  the  work  of 
Leibniz  is  not  to  be  regarded  merely  as  furnishing 
certain  convenient  elements  for  the  great  construc- 
tive work  of  his  illustrious  successor.  He  did  that, 
but  more.  He  also  established  certain  fundamental 
truths  which  have  affected  profoundly  the  current  of 
philosophical  thought,  not  only  throughout  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  but  even  to  the  present  day.  His 
doctrine  of  substance  as  a  centre  of  energy  agrees  in 
an  almost  prophetic  manner  with  the  modern  theory 
of  the  ultimate  energy  unit,  which  is  supposed  to  be 
the  basis  of  all  material  phenomena;  and  also  with 
the  corresponding  point  of  view  which  sees  within 
the  seemingly  passive  objects  of  our  observation  a 
ceaseless  activity,  and  within  the  sphere  of  the  incon- 
ceivably minute  particles  of  matter  a  world  of  mov- 
ing elements.  The  one  point  of  difference,  how- 
ever, is  that  the  monad  of  Leibniz,  as  a  unit  of 
energy,  is  intensively  individual,  and  all  qualitative 
differences    are    due    to   the   original    and    inherent 

'  Metaphysics,  §  28. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  189 

differences  of  the  various  elementary  substances 
themselves — no  two  in  the  whole  universe  being 
alike.  According  to  the  modern  theory,  on  the  con- 
trary, it  is  supposed  that  there  is  a  certain  uniformity 
of  the  ultimate  energy  characteristics,  and  differences 
are  accounted  for  by  the  various  combinations 
which  the  original  units  may  chance  to  form.  Leib- 
niz's units,  however,  are  never  qualitatively  indif- 
ferent. Whatever  their  development,  and  into 
whatever  combinations  they  may  enter,  there  is 
throughout  a  complete  conservation  of  individuality 
as  well  as  of  energy. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  most  singular  inconsistency  on 
Leibniz's  part  that  he  failed  to  derive  variety  of  sub- 
stance by  a  method  of  arranging  like  elements  in 
different  combinations,  inasmuch  as,  by  his  Ars 
Combinatorial  he  regards  it  as  quite  possible  to  reach 
an  indefinite  variety  of  true  judgments  through 
various  combinations  of  symbolic  characters  repre- 
senting simple  and  fundamental  concepts  of  thought. 
Now,  Leibniz  held  as  a  central  principle  of  his 
philosophical  system  that  the  processes  of  thought 
indicate  the  essential  nature  and  the  real  connections 
of  things,  therefore,  inasmuch  as  the  development  of 
thought  in  his  symbolic  system  proceeds  according 
to  a  method  of  devising  various  significant  com- 
binations, what  would  have  been  more  natural 
than  for  Leibniz  to  fall  in  with  the  obvious  sugges- 
tion that  in  all  probability  variety  of  substance 
throughout  the  universe  may  be  also  due  to  a  certain 
variety  of  combinations  which  the  simple  elements 
are  capable  of  undergoing  among  themselves  ^. 

Leibniz,  however,  held  most  tenaciously  to  his 
conviction  that  each  monad  is  a  simple  substance, 
and  in  no  wise  composite;    therefore  the  possibility 


190  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

of  qualitative  differences  among  simple  substances 
being  accounted  for  by  the  differences  due  to  various 
forms  of  combination,  was  necessarily  excluded  from 
his  thought. 

There  is  still  another  conception  of  Leibniz 
which  was  a  prophecy  of  results  of  a  most  compre- 
hensive character,  which  were  to  be  reached  at  a 
later  day  and  in  other  fields  of  thought.  This  is 
his  idea  of  a  natural  evolution  of  the  essential  char- 
acteristics of  every  substance  according  to  the  law 
of  their  inner  nature.  Leibniz  believed  in  a  funda- 
mental principle  of  continuity  operative  throughout 
the  universe  in  such  a  manner  that  there  can- 
not possibly  be  any  leap  in  nature.  This  conti- 
nuity, he  held,  is  unbroken  throughout  every  phase 
of  activity,  whether  mechanical  or  mental.  More- 
over, the  evolution  which  Leibniz  had  in  view  was 
not  merely  that  of  the  single  substance,  but  of  all 
substances  co-ordinately  related  in  one  and  the  same 
system — the  realisation  of  a  great  cosmic  program. 
In  this  world  system  he  emphasises  the  unity  of  na- 
ture, whose  various  parts  are  interconnected  each  to 
each,  and  each  to  the  whole.  While  every  substance 
is  individual,  no  substance  is  isolated;  and  all  con- 
spire together  to  serve  a  common  end.  The  following 
passage  of  Leibniz,  if  its  theological  interpretation 
and  also  certain  crudities  of  biological  expression  were 
to  be  eliminated,  might  well  appear  in  some  modern 
essay  on  the  theory  of  evolution: 

"Commencing  from  ourselves  and  proceeding  even 
to  the  lowest  things,  a  descent  is  made  by  very  small 
degrees^  and  by  a  continued  series  of  things,  which 
in  each  remove  differ  very  little  one  from  the  other. 
There  are  fishes  that  have  wings,  and  to  whom  the 
air  is  not  strange,  and  there  are  birds  inhabiting  the 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LEIBNIZ  191 

water  whose  blood  is  cold  like  that  of  the  fishes,  and 
whose  flesh  so  strongly  resembles  theirs  in  taste  that 
the  scrupulous  are  allowed  to  eat  them  on  fish  days. 
There  are  animals  so  closely  approaching  the  species 
of  birds  and  of  beasts  that  they  hold  the  middle 
ground  between  them.  The  amphibia  contain  both 
terrestrial  and  aquatic  animals.  Seals  live  upon  the 
land  and  in  the  sea;  and  porpoises  (whose  name 
signifies  sea-hog)  have  the  warm  blood  and  the  en- 
trails of  a  hog.  Not  to  speak  of  that  which  is  re- 
ported of  sea-men,  there  are  some  animals  who  seem 
to  have  as  much  knowledge  and  reason  as  some  that 
are  called  men;  and  there  is  so  close  a  relation  be- 
tween animals  and  vegetables,  that  if  you  take  the 
most  imperfect  of  one,  and  the  most  perfect  of  the 
other,  you  will  scarcely  perceive  any  considerable 
difference  between  them.  Thus,  until  we  reach  the 
lowest  and  least  organised  parts  of  matter,  we  shall 
find  everywhere  species  bound  together  and  diff'ering 
by  degrees  almost  imperceptible.  And  when  we  con- 
sider the  wisdom  and  infinite  power  of  the  Author  of 
all  things,  we  have  reason  to  think  that  it  is  con- 
formed to  the  magnificent  harmony  of  the  universe 
and  to  the  great  design  as  well  as  to  the  infinite  good- 
ness of  this  sovereign  Architect,  that  the  different 
species  of  creatures  ascend,  also,  little  by  little  from 
us  toward  his  infinite  perfection."  ^ 

In  commenting  upon  Leibniz  and  the  other  pio- 
neers of  the  philosophical  interpretation  of  nature 
in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries.  Pro- 
fessor Osborn  remarks:  "It  is  a  very  striking  fact 
that  the  basis  of  our  modern  methods  of  studying 
the  Evolution  problem  was  established  not  by  the 
early    naturalists,    nor    by    the    speculative   writers, 

*  The  New  Essays,  p.  332  /. 


192  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

but  by  the  philosophers.  They  alone  were  upon 
the  main  track  of  modern  thought."  * 

True  to  his  fundamental  principles  of  interpreta- 
tion, Leibniz's  thought  is  concerned  with  the  final  as 
well  as  the  material  and  efficient  cause  of  evolution. 
His  rationalistic  point  of  view  leads  him  to  regard  the 
end  toward  which  the  whole  creation  moves  as  the 
essentially  determining  factor  in  its  beginnings  and 
throughout  the  whole  course  of  its  development,  so 
that  what  may  prove  to  be  last  in  execution  must  have 
been  first  in  conception.  All  things  work  together 
on  this  hypothesis  to  conserve  the  harmony  of  the 
U72werse.  It  is  natural  that  if  Leibniz  held  any 
theory  of  evolution,  he  should  tinge  it  with  a  philo- 
sophical colouring.  This  may  seem  to  the  strictly 
scientific  evolutionist  of  to-day  wholly  gratuitous. 
But  it  is  an  interest  which  Leibniz,  by  his  mental 
temperament,  could  not  possibly  conceal.  What- 
ever may  be  the  comment  upon  its  philosophical  and 
theological  ground,  Leibniz's  theory  of  evolution,  as 
a  sketch  roughly  outlined,  and  in  parts  vaguely  sug- 
gested, must  be  regarded  as  an  idea  which  antici- 
pated an  age  whose  spirit  the  great  philosopher  of  that 
remote  generation  felt,  and  in  a  measure  expressed. 

While  Leibniz  supplies,  as  we  have  seen,  the  ra- 
tionalistic motif  which  was  necessary  to  correct  the 
unbalanced  character  of  Locke's  too  exclusive  em- 
piricism, he  is  also  strongly  of  the  opinion  that  a 
synthesis  of  the  rationalistic  and  empirical  elements 
in  knowledge  should  be  effected.  Though  his  at- 
tempt in  this  regard  is  not  wholly  satisfactory,  it 
serves  a  purpose  in  the  progressive  movement  of 
thought  by  contributing  significant  material  and  sug- 
gestion to  the  master  mind  of  Kant.     In  a   more 

'  H.  F.  Osborn,  From  the  Creeks  to  Darwin,  p.  87. 


THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   LEIBNIZ         193 

direct  manner  also  Leibniz  has  furnished  the  philo- 
sophical world  at  large  with  a  wealth  of  ideas  which 
have  proved  eminently  suggestive  and  of  incalcula- 
ble value.  The  conception  of  a  unity  in  the  midst  of 
difference,  of  a  harmony  underlying  seemingly  op- 
posed phenomena,  of  profound  relations  which  exist 
among  elements  superficially  separate  and  distinct,  of 
an  unbroken  continuity  in  the  process  of  unfolding  the 
treasures  of  nature  and  of  mind,  the  conviction,  more- 
over, that  there  is  a  reason  and  meaning  in  every- 
thing, the  idea  also  of  a  world  of  order  and  of  purpose 
whose  significance  is  revealed  alone  in  God,  and  the 
consequent  creed  of  optimism,  and  its  cardinal  doc- 
trine of  the  best  possible  world — this  is,  in  part  at 
least,  the  heritage  which  comes  to  us  through  the 
works  of  Leibniz,  and  which  has  generously  enriched 
the  permanent  possessions  of  philosophical  thought. 

References. — R.  Adamson:    The  Development  of  Modern  Philos- 
ophy.    Vol.  I.     Edinburgh,  1903. 
Ernst  Cassirer:   Leibniz's  System.     Marburg,  1902. 
Louis  Couturat:   La  logique  de  Leibniz.     Paris,  1901, 
John  Dewey:   New  Essays  Concerning  Human  Understanding.     A 

Critical  Exposition.     Chicago,  1888. 
E.  Dillmann:  Eine  neue  Darstellung  der  Leibnizschen  Monadenlehre. 

Leipzig,  1 89 1. 
C.  T.  Gerhardt:  Die  Philosophischen  Schrijten  von  G.  W.  Leibniz. 

Berlin,  1875-90. 
George  M.  Duncan:   The  Philosophical  Works  0}  Leibniz.     New 

Haven,  1890. 
A.  G.  Langley:  New  Essays.     London  and  New  York,  1893. 
Robert  Latta:  Leibniz.  TheMotiadology,etc.   Clarendon  Press,  1898. 
J.  T.  Merz:  Leibniz.     {Philosophical  Classics  jor  English  Readers.) 

Edinburgh,  1884. 
Bertrand  Russell:   The  Philosophy  oj  Leibniz.     Cambridge  Press, 

1900. 
W.  R.  Sorley:  Leibniz  in  Encyclopcedia  Britannica. 
Frank  Thilly:  Leibnizens  Streit  gegen  Locke.     Heidelberg,  1896. 
Kuno  Fischer:  Leibniz's  Leben,  Werke  und  Lehre.     Heidelberg,  1902. 
M.  H.  Calkins:  Persistent  Problems  in  Philosophy.     N.  Y.,  1907. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  CONFLICT  OF  TYPICAL  PHILOSOPHICAL 
TENDENCIES  IN  GERMANY 

Germany  was  the  common  ground  where  the  vari- 
ous philosophical  forces  of  the  eighteenth  century 
met.  Here  they  appeared,  now  in  conflict,  and  again 
in  attempt  at  reconciliation.  It  was  a  period  of  con- 
fusion and  uncertainty,  of  controversy  in  some  quar- 
ters, and  of  an  artificial  eclecticism  in  others,  but 
withal  a  period  of  preparation  for  the  necessary  work 
of  reconstruction  which  was  later  to  be  accomplished 
by  the  profound  insight  of  Kant.  For  this  task  the 
great  philosopher  also  was  preparing,  through  an 
intimate  contact  with  the  various  philosophical  in- 
fluences of  his  day,  and  through  a  growing  apprecia- 
tion, on  his  part,  of  their  several  glimpses  of  truth  as 
well  as  their  corresponding  limitations.  Kant's  critical 
estimate  of  this  period  is  significantly  revealed  in  his 
pointed  characterisation  of  it:  '' Wenn  demi  nun 
gefragl  wird :  leben  wir  jetzt  tn  einem  aufgekldrten 
Zeitalter  f  So  ist  die  Antwort:  Nein;  wohl  aher  in 
einem  Zeitalter  der  Aufkl'drung'* 

The  influence  which  most  conspicuously  dominated 
the  German  thought  of  this  century  was  that  of  Leib- 
niz as  systematised  and  formulated  in  the  writings  of 
his  follower.  Christian  Wolff'.  It  was  primarily,  as 
we  have  seen,  an  intellectualistic  point  of  view,  em- 
phasising the  supreme  significance  and  value  of  the 
unmistakably  clear  ideas  of  the  reason  as  the  ulti- 

194 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  195 

mate  source  of  knowledge.  At  the  same  time,  the 
empirical  view  of  Locke  appealed  more  strongly  to  a 
large  circle  of  the  younger  philosophers,  who  had  been 
introduced  to  this  way  of  thinking  directly  through 
the  German  translations  of  Locke's  Essay,  and  indi- 
rectly through  the  Lockian  doctrines  which  had  come 
into  Germany  through  the  widely  growing  influence 
of  the  French  writers. 

Not  only  was  there  the  old  controversy  as  to 
whether  truth  is  to  be  sought  by  the  analysis  of 
the  clear  ideas  of  the  reason,  or  through  research  in 
the  psychological  origins  of  our  more  complex  men- 
tal states;  but  also  there  was  in  certain  quarters 
an  emphatic  protest  against  the  search  for  truth  at 
all  in  the  sphere  of  the  intellect,  and  an  earnest 
plea  for  the  deeper  insight,  as  it  was  believed,  which 
the  feelings  alone  are  capable  of  giving.  This 
influence  was  intensified  in  part  by  the  writings  of 
Rousseau,  and  in  part  also  by  the  wave  of  pietism 
which  swept  over  Germany.  This  religious  move- 
ment had  its  beginning  with  the  teachings  of  Spe- 
ner  (1635-1705),  and  was  developed  and  furthered 
by  the  more  systematic  efforts  of  Francke  (1663- 
1727).  In  the  midst  of  the  various  philosophical 
stirrings  of  thought,  this  Teutonic  Quakerism  ex- 
erted a  profound  influence  both  upon  the  philosoph- 
ical thought  and  the  religious  conviction  of  Germany 
throughout  this  period  of  unrest  and  controversy. 
It  had  at  least  two  essential  characteristics  in  com- 
mon with  the  doctrines  of  the  Woljflfian  philosophy, 
namely,  a  disregard  of  creeds,  and  the  insistence 
upon  the  supreme  worth  of  a  moral  life  as  the  es- 
sence of  religion.  The  philosophy  of  the  Aufklarung 
tended  to  substitute  morality  for  religion;  and  where 
this  tendency  was  not  completely  realised,  at  least 


196  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

the  moral  aspects  of  religion  were  placed  conspicu- 
ously in  the  foreground.  Pietism,  as  a  rule  of  life 
showing  its  fruits  in  a  personal  morality,  sympatheti- 
cally expresses,  and  that  too  with  all  the  earnestness 
and  fervour  of  an  established  sect,  this  characteristic 
tendency  of  the  Aufkldrung.  Moreover,  pietism  in- 
sists upon  religion  as  the  immediate  personal  concern 
of  the  individual,  and  in  this  respect  emphasises  an- 
other essential  and  conspicuous  factor  in  the  general 
philosophical  movement  of  thought  of  that  day, — a 
trait  also  of  the  German  spirit  which  had  manifested 
itself  so  persistently  in  the  marked  individualism  of 
Luther  and  the  age  of  the  Reformation.  The  uni- 
versity of  Halle,  founded  in  1694,  was  the  home  and 
centre  of  this  pietlstic  movement  in  Germany. 

Martin  Knutzen  (17 13-51),  who  was  the  teacher 
of  Kant  in  the  University  of  Konigsberg,  had  a  strain 
of  pietism  in  his  exposition  of  the  Wolffian  philos- 
ophy, and  the  common  ground  between  these  widely 
different  points  of  view  was  emphasised  by  the  promi- 
nence which  he  gave  in  his  teaching  to  the  ideas  of 
individuahsm  and  subjectivity.  There  was  still  an- 
other type  of  mind  which  appeared  in  this  period, 
and  which,  like  the  pietistic  temperament,  found  in 
the  feelings  the  source  of  inspiration  and  conse- 
quently of  knowledge.  I  refer  to  the  rising  school  of 
German  poets  who  believed  that  certain  ideas  are 
grasped  intuitively,  and  that  such  ideas  resist  all  at- 
tempts to  analyse  them  into  simpler  elements  or  to 
trace  their  origin  to  earlier  forms.  They  were  of  the 
opinion  that  such  truths  can  neither  be  explained 
nor  yet  explained  away.  They  come  through  flashes 
of  visions,  through  mystic  insight  and  sympathetic 
appreciation.  From  this  point  of  view  it  is  urged 
that  the  poet  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  true  philosopher. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  197 

After  this  brief  survey  of  the  various  intellectual 
forces  which  meet  in  Germany  during  this  century, 
we  now  proceed  to  a  more  particular  examination 
of  them  severally.  The  philosophy  of  Leibniz  was 
the  most  significant  and  wide-reaching  influence  of 
this  period.  Unfortunately  it  became  known  to  the 
German  people  through  the  interpretation  of  his 
writings  which  finds  expression  in  the  works  of 
Christian  WolflF  (1679-1754).  I  say  unfortunately, 
because  the  so-called  Leibniz-WolflRan  philosophy 
presents  the  letter  of  Leibniz's  thought  without  its 
spirit.  In  order  to  render  the  doctrines  of  Leibniz 
adaptable  to  the  needs  of  instruction  in  the  schools 
and  universities  Wolffs  reduces  them  to  very  distinct 
definitions  and  convenient  formulas,  and  conse- 
quently he  wholly  depotentiates  their  original  vitality 
and  significance.  Wolff  was  by  nature  a  systema- 
tiser.  He  knew  how  to  arrange  the  dead  bones  of 
philosophy  in  their  proper  order  and  to  give  them 
their  precise  articulation.  But  he  failed  to  quicken 
them  with  the  breath  of  life.  The  remarks  which 
Herder  makes  concerning  the  Wolffian  adaptation  of 
the  Leibnizian  philosophy  are  most  striking  and  ap- 
posite. He  writes  in  1776  in  the  German  Mercury : 
"Leibniz  loved  to  make  comparisons,  to  make  novel 
use  of  other  men's  ideas,  and  frequently  to  couple 
the  most  contradictory  opinions;  thus  he  revealed 
his  whole  system  not  otherwise  than  as  it  presented 
itself  to  him,  as  it  lived  in  his  soul,  in  glimpses  of 
wit  and  imagination,  in  short  essays  and  in  ever 
familiarising  us  with  other  men's  ideas.  It  had  to 
be  felt  in  the  warmth  of  this  origin  and  of  this  con- 
nection, otherwise  Leibniz's  spirit  was  gone,  and  with 
it  all  the  original  and  primitive  truth  of  the  impression. 
Wolff",  who  was  incapable  of  feeling  this,  or  who,  as 


198  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

follower  and  commentator,  had  no  time  for  feeling, 
made  theorems  out  of  these  prospects  and  glimpses 
of  wit.  They  were  so  much  easier  to  demonstrate, 
as  they  had  lost  their  spontaneousness  and  had  be- 
come trivial  and  might  mean  everything  or  nothing. 
The  followers  of  this  school-dissector  dissected  fur- 
ther: the  Germanised  Latin  language  of  philosophy 
stood  there  as  a  tree  on  which  caterpillars  and  beetles 
had  left  on  each  leaf  a  metaphysic  of  dry  threads, 
so  that  the  dryad  wept  for  mercy — Leibniz,  Leibniz! 
where  was  thy  spirit  .f"'  * 

It  is  always  the  case  that  the  simplified  ideas  of  a 
great  teacher  fail  to  represent  him  adequately.  Leib- 
niz's rationalism  was  tempered  and  balanced,  not,  it 
is  true,  in  any  systematic  manner,  for  Leibniz  never 
reduced  his  philosophy  to  a  formal  system;  never- 
theless, he  was  keenly  sensible  of  the  wealth  of  sig- 
nificance hidden  in  the  concrete  and  particular  ex- 
periences of  life,  which  the  cut  and  dried  formulas 
of  a  scholastic  mind  are  powerless  to  express.  Wolff 
demonstrates  the  inadequacy  of  a  purely  logico- 
metaphysical  inquiry  which  loses  itself  in  the  empty 
phrases  of  a  barren  rationalism.  His  Vernunftige 
Gedanken  concerning  logic,  metaphysics,  ethics,  psy- 
chology, physiology  and  politics  cover  the  entire  field 
of  philosophy  and  cognate  sciences  and  form  a  com- 
plete "philosophical  encyclopaedia."  While  their 
influence  was  extensive,  forming  the  basis  of  instruc- 
tion throughout  all  the  higher  schools  of  Germany, 
nevertheless,  because  they  were  superficial  and  scho- 
lastic, that  influence  was  never  deep  or  permanent. 

Leibniz  did  not  reduce  his  philosophy  to  a  system, 
because  it  was  too  deeply  penetrating,  too  subtle,  too 
vaguely  suggested  at  times,  too  delicately  shaded  in 

'  Merz,  Leibniz,  pp.  198  /. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  199 

its  discriminations,  too  elusive  in  the  thoughts  which 
were  profoundly  felt,  yet  impossible  adequately  to  ex- 
press. It  was,  in  short,  too  instinct  with  life  to  admit 
of  the  laying  bare  of  its  bone  and  tissue  by  the  scalpel 
of  a  scholastic  logic.  Leibniz's  intellectualism  was 
balanced  and  modified,  if  not  by  actually  expressed 
reservations  and  limitations,  at  least  by  the  unex- 
pressed implications  of  his  point  of  view  and  general 
attitude  of  mind.  Wolff,  however,  despite  his  ob- 
vious limitations  as  an  expounder  of  the  doctrines 
of  Leibniz,  rendered  an  incalculable  service  to  the 
philosophical  thought  of  Germany.  He  wrote  in  the 
German  language;  his  style  was  clear;  his  treatment 
of  the  extensive  range  of  philosophical  topics  was 
comprehensive.  Consequently  a  mass  of  philosophi- 
cal doctrine  became  available  to  a  large  popular  fol- 
lowing whose  interest  in  the  deeper  problems  of 
thought  and  of  life  it  was  the  means  not  merely  of 
stimulating,  but  also  of  creating.  Through  Wolff, 
therefore,  the  German  people  were  made  familiar 
with  a  philosophical  vocabulary  and  received  an 
orientation  in  the  typical  philosophical  disciplines. 
Germany's  secure  grounding  in  philosophical  doc- 
trines was  due  in  no  slight  measure  to  the  contribu- 
tion which  the  works  of  Wolff  made  to  the  national 
education  of  his  day. 

In  looking  for  the  true  follower  of  Leibniz  we 
would  naturally  seek  one  who  was  able  to  appre- 
ciate the  deep  undercurrents  of  his  philosophy, 
and  to  give  his  thought  an  adequate  expression 
in  a  form  which  possesses  more  life  and  signifi- 
cance. Such  a  follower  we  do  not  find  in  Wolff 
or  in  any  member  of  his  school,  but  in  one  who 
combined  in  a  remarkably  versatile  nature  the  gifts 
of  a   poet,   philosopher,   dramatist,   critic,   historian 


200  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

and  theologian,  namely,  Gotthold  Ephraim  Les- 
sing  (1729-81).  With  Lessing  in  the  line  of  philo- 
sophical descent  from  Leibniz  may  be  placed  that 
other  philosopher  poet,  Johann  Gottfried  Herder 
(i 744-1803).  The  delicate  nuances  of  Leibniz's 
thought  which  Wolff  failed  wholly  to  appreciate 
were  revealed  to  the  artistic  insight  both  of  Lessing 
and  of  Herder.  What  the  bare  logical  faculty  misses 
altogether,  the  sympathetic  instinct  is  able  to  appre- 
hend. This  in  itself  is  an  indication  that  clear 
thought  capable  of  expression  in  convenient  formula 
is  not  the  sole  source  of  knowledge.  The  light  of 
reason,  which  the  philosophers  of  the  Aukfldrung  in 
Germany  regarded  as  the  one  and  only  guiding  star, 
might  shine  on  the  high  places  of  thought,  but  it  failed 
at  times  to  penetrate  the  more  obscure  regions  of 
the  lower  valleys.  Lessing  was  one  who  found  in 
Leibniz  valuable  suggestions  as  to  the  illumination 
of  those  stretches  of  thought  whose  darkness  the 
conventional  formulas  of  the  Wolffian  system  were 
wholly  incapable  of  dispelling.  Of  the  difficulty  in 
expressing  the  thought  of  Leibniz  in  the  exact 
formulas  of  the  school  Lessing  says,  in  a  conver- 
sation with  Jacobi:  "Leibniz's  ideas  of  truth  were 
so  formed  that  he  could  not  bear  to  see  too  narrow 
limits  set  to  it.  From  this  mode  of  thought  many  of 
his  statements  have  flowed,  and  it  is  often  hard  for 
the  most  acute  student  to  discover  his  real  opinion. 
For  that  very  reason  I  think  so  highly  of  him;  I  mean, 
on  account  of  this  great  manner  of  thinking,  not  on 
account  of  this  or  that  opinion  which  he  appeared  to 
hold,  or  even  actually  held."  ^ 

According  to  Leibniz's  doctrines  of  continuity  and 
of  progressive  development,  the  objects  of  thought 

•  Jacobi,  Werke,  Part  IV,  §  i. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  201 

which  are  not  capable  of  shining  in  their  own  light 
may,  nevertheless,  possess  a  deep  significance  when 
regarded  in  the  light  of  an  unfolding  process  of  which 
they  themselves  are  essential  stages.  The  age  of  rea- 
son in  Germany,  as  in  France,  despised  the  past 
achievements  of  thought  and  of  deeds,  because  they 
had  failed  to  measure  up  to  the  advanced  standards 
of  the  Aufkldrung  ideals.  In  Germany  the  break 
with  the  past  was  not  actually  brought  about  by  a 
decided  rupture  with  church  and  state,  as  it  was  in 
France  during  the  period  of  the  Revolution.  Protes- 
tantism in  Germany  was  more  elastic  and  adaptable. 
The  church  was  able  to  accommodate  itself  to  the  new 
phases  of  thought,  namely  the  Wolffian  philosophy 
and  pietism.  In  the  generation  following  Wolff's 
activity  as  author  and  teacher  most  of  the  professors 
of  theology  in  the  various  German  universities  were 
adherents  of  the  Wolffian  system.  The  sympathies 
of  the  state  were  with  the  new  philosophy;  for  was 
not  the  great  Frederick  himself  a  philosopher  of  the 
Aufkldrung  and  the  first  patron  in  his  time  of  phil- 
osophy, the  arts  and  letters  .?  Nevertheless,  the  sense 
of  historical  continuity  and  the  appreciation  of  its 
debt  to  the  past  were  wholly  foreign  to  the  thought 
of  that  age.  While  there  was  no  revolution  in  Ger- 
many, the  ties  with  the  past  were  but  lightly  re- 
garded, and  there  was  a  general  declaration  of 
independence  in  reference  to  all  the  historic  phases 
of  thought,,  as  well  as  to  all  the  thinkers  who  were 
not  of  the  living  present.  Lessing's  contribution 
to  the  age  in  which  he  lived  was  the  insistence  upon 
the  unbroken  continuity  of  the  historical  develop- 
ment of  the  world,  both  of  the  world  of  thought  and 
the  world  of  action.  Lessing  approached  the  philos- 
ophy of  Leibniz  not  from  its  speculative  but  from  its 


202  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

practical  side.  He  was  not  primarily  interested  in 
the  metaphysical  significance  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
monad  or  its  epistemological  applications.  But  he 
was  interested  most  enthusiastically  in  the  idea  of 
evolution,  which  was  the  essential  characteristic  of 
the  life  of  the  monad.  He  appreciated  with  a  keen 
insight  the  value  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  as  a 
method  of  historical  criticism.  While  the  age  of  the 
Aufkldrung  could  lightly  dismiss  all  past  achievement 
as  insignificant  because  inferior  to  the  standards  of 
the  present,  Lessing  insisted  that  its  value  must  be 
assessed  according  to  its  part  and  place  in  the  devel- 
opment as  a  whole.  What  is  not  according  to  form- 
ula and  rule  may  still  possess  a  value  and  interest 
when  regarded  in  its  own  setting,  and  as  a  phase,  even 
though  a  passing  phase,  of  an  onward  movement  tow- 
ard a  more  and  more  complete  expression  of  truth. 

Lessing  was  convinced  that  light  may  be  found  to 
illuminate  present  problems,  not  merely  in  the  inner 
reason,  but  also  in  the  external  records  of  history. 
This  idea  is  developed  at  length  in  his  Erziehung  des 
Menschengeschlechts.  For  Lessing  regards  history 
as  a  continuous  revelation  of  God,  and  he  was  of  the 
opinion  that  the  education  of  the  race  is  a  divine 
leading,  a  pillar  of  cloud  by  day  and  a  pillar  of  fire 
by  night.  Lessing  in  the  search  after  truth  in  re- 
ligion demands  a  return  to  the  sources  in  a  study  of 
the  religion  of  Christ  as  the  proper  corrective  of  the 
misconceptions  and  abuses  of  the  Christian  religion. 
Moreover,  he  regards  as  particularly  valuable  the 
investigation  of  the  evolution  of  the  religious  idea 
among  savage  tribes  and  heathen  peoples  and  the 
great  religions  of  the  East.  As  each  monad,  in  Leib- 
niz's theory,  is  considered  as  representing,  in  some 
slight  degree  at  least,  certain  phases  of  the  great  whole. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  203 

— the  universe  itself;  so  also,  according  to  Lessing, 
every  form  of  religious  belief,  every  symbol  of  rubric 
and  ritual,  even  every  clouded  superstition  may  be 
regarded  as  a  more  or  less  complete  expression  of 
religious  truth.  No  positive  religion  has  an  exclusive 
claim  to  absolute  truth,  but  each  has  a  relative  value. 
As  the  famous  fable  of  the  three  rings  in  Nathan  der 
Weise  portrays,  truth  appears  in  many  forms,  none  of 
which  admits  of  perfect  defence  and  complete  adhe- 
rence in  the  scorn  and  defiance  of  the  others.  In 
1 8 15  Goethe  wrote  of  Lessing  and  his  Nathan  der 
Weise:  "May  the  well-known  tale,  happily  repre- 
sented, forever  remind  the  German  public  that  it  is 
called  not  only  to  see,  but  to  hear  and  to  understand. 
At  the  same  time  may  the  divine  feeling  of  tolerance 
and  forbearance  therein  expressed  remain  sacred  and 
precious  to  the  nation."  ^ 

By  his  cosmopolitan  attitude  to  the  religions  of  the 
world  Lessing  naturally  drew  upon  himself  the  sharp 
fire  of  opposition  and  abuse  from  the  camp  of  the 
dogmatic  orthodoxy  of  his  day.  His  publication  of 
the  Wolfenhuttler  Fragmente  precipitated  a  bitter  con- 
troversy between  himself  and  the  theologians.  This 
work,  purporting  to  be  a  manuscript  found  by  chance 
in  the  library  at  Wolfenbiittel,  was  really  written  by 
Reimarus,  a  reputed  orthodox  teacher  and  writer, 
and  a  recognised  champion  of  natural  religion  and 
of  the  prevalent  deism  of  that  age.  The  manuscript 
was  given  to  Lessing  by  the  daughter  of  its  author 
after  his  death.  This  work  marked  the  beginnings 
of  the  higher  criticism  in  biblical  literature.  It  gave 
to  Lessing  himself  an  impetus  in  the  historical  study 
of  the  sources  of  the  Christian  religion.  The  idea 
of  a  gradual  unfolding  of  the  religious  concept  in  a 

'  Sime,  Lessing,  vol.  II,  p.  260. 


204  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

progressive  order  of  development  became  the  basis  of 
all  of  his  critical  studies.  He  saw  the  same  principle 
also  working  in  the  evolution  of  the  truths  of  philos- 
ophy, of  art  and  of  all  knowledge. 

There  was  in  Lessing,  moreover,  an  unusual  com- 
bination of  the  critical  and  poetical  temperaments. 
To  his  judicial  mind  and  the  ability  to  express  his 
thought  in  a  clear  and  lucid  style  there  was  joined  a 
rare  capacity  of  sympathetic  insight  and  appreciation. 
He  supplied  in  his  own  person,  and  as  a  conspicuous 
object  lesson,  that  combination  of  the  elements  of 
mind  and  heart  which  the  cold,  rigorous  logic  of 
the  Aufkl'drung  wholly  lacked.  And  it  was  by  no 
means  at  the  expense  of  the  strict  demands  of  logical 
canon  and  precept  that  he  succeeded  in  supplying 
this  warmer  tone  of  poetical  insight  and  enthusiastic 
appreciation.  The  tendency  in  the  manner  of  think- 
ing during  this  period  was  to  dismiss  as  worthy  of 
no  consideration  whatsoever  the  particular  instance 
which  was  not  obviously  intelligible  through  a  ready 
reference  to  some  general  principle  or  standard;  or 
at  least  to  grasp  only  so  much  of  an  object's  signifi- 
cance which  might  be  thus  easily  and  formally  inter- 
preted, and  to  discount  altogether  its  finer  shades  of 
meaning  and  import.  Thinking  always  becomes  me- 
chanical when  the  particular  instance  is  seen  only  in 
the  light  of  doctrine  or  theory.  An  age  such  as  that 
of  the  Aufkl'drung  failed  to  appreciate  the  poverty 
of  the  formula  and  of  the  general  principle  in  deal- 
ing with  actual  concrete  experiences  rich  in  content 
and  warm  with  life.  Leibniz's  theory  that  each 
monad  has  its  own  peculiar  individual  nature  and  is 
incapable  of  complete  subsumption  under  a  general 
group  or  class,  is  an  idea  which  appealed  most 
strongly  to  the   keen  sensibilities  of  Lessing.     Al- 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  205 

though  Lessing's  mind  was  exact,  it  was  not  mechan- 
ical. Not  only  as  a  critic  did  he  regard  the  particular 
experience  as  worthy  of  a  special  consideration  for 
its  own  sake,  but  also  as  an  artist  he  felt  that  the 
recognition  and  appreciation  of  aesthetic  values  come 
not  by  rule  and  formula,  but  by  the  indefinable  and 
inexpressible  impressions  which  arise  from  the  deep 
places  of  one's  being  in  the  presence  of  the  beautiful, 
whether  in  nature  or  in  art. 

An  entire  region  of  thought  as  well  as  of  feeling 
was  thus  opened  to  the  eyes  of  the  Aufklarung 
philosophers,  somewhat  bewildered  and  dazed  by 
the  bright  light  of  rationalism.  Lessing  found  in  the 
aesthetic  appreciations  something  which  was  at  least 
extra-rational.  His  masterly  exposition  and  defence 
of  this  essential  phase  of  human  nature  served  to 
counterbalance  the  excessive  and  exclusive  claims 
which  were  so  stoutly  urged  by  the  adherents  to  a 
purely  intellectual  philosophy  of  the  spirit  of  man. 
Lessing  declares  that  man  cannot  live  by  thought 
alone,  and  that  by  swinging  clear  of  the  ties  with  the 
past,  the  age  of  the  Aufklarung  had  shut  out  a  whole 
world  of  accumulated  experience  which  had  been 
funded  in  the  classical  models  of  antiquity.  He  was 
convinced  that  one  needs  the  inspiration  of  the  ideals 
which  men  of  other  ages,  striving  after  the  truth,  have 
sought  to  realise  in  permanent  forms  of  beauty  and  of 
power.  To  live  for  a  season  in  the  atmosphere  of  noble 
attainment,  and  to  catch,  in  a  slight  measure  at  least, 
the  spirit  of  those  men  who  have  seen  visions  and 
dreamed  dreams,  and  have  wrought  their  ideals  into 
symbols  of  truth  and  of  beauty,  is  an  experience 
which  in  itself  serves  to  deepen  the  thought,  and  to 
free  it  from  the  deadening  effects  of  empty  phrase 
and  barren  formula. 


206  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Lessing  endeavoured  to  show  that  there  is  a  vast 
region  of  truth  which  cannot  be  intellectuahsed.  He 
thus  indicated  the  inadequacy  of  an  exclusively  ra- 
tionalistic method  in  the  search  for  truth,  and  in  this 
most  practical  manner,  by  an  appeal  to  a  wide  range 
of  experience  which  can  never  be  comprehended 
under  the  forms  of  definition  and  dialectic.  Such  a 
region  may  be  ignored,  it  is  true,  but  it  is  always  at 
the  expense  of  true  vision  and  of  a  deep  knowledge 
of  the  significance  of  life. 

Lessing,  moreover,  discriminated  between  the  essen- 
tials of  religion  and  its  accidents.  He  refused  to  fol- 
low any  convenient  error;  he  believed  that  no  la- 
bour of  inquiry  was  too  arduous  or  too  exacting.  He 
was  uncompromisingly  the  foe  of  superficial  think- 
ing, and  of  dumb  acquiescence  in  the  authority 
of  custom  and  tradition.  His  was  a  militant  spirit 
in  the  affairs  of  the  mind.  His  enemies  were  ideas 
— ideas  whenever  they  showed  the  flaws  of  incon- 
sistency or  the  taint  of  insincerity.  Of  his  prowess 
as  a  dialectic  swordsman  Heine  speaks  with  a  grim 
humour:  "No  head  was  safe  from  him.  Many  a 
skull  he  struck  oflp  from  pure  wantonness,  and  then 
was  mischievous  enough  to  hold  it  up  to  the  public 
to  show  that  it  was  empty."  * 

The  spirit  of  Leibniz's  philosophy  was  revealed  not 
only  to  Lessing  but  also  to  Herder.  Herder's  type 
of  mind  was,  however,  affected  by  it  in  a  somewhat 
different  manner.  While  he  also  was  profoundly  im- 
pressed with  Leibniz's  doctrine  of  development,  he 
was  more  interested  in  the  search  for  the  beginnings 
of  that  development  than  in  the  study  of  its  more 
perfect  models.  His  peculiar  interest  was  in  the 
study  of  origins,  in  the  pettts  perceptions  of  human 

*  Weber,  Deutschland,  Part  I,  p.  i68  (Volksausgabe). 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  207 

thought.  He  held  that  what  men  feel  instinctively 
is  of  more  importance  than  what  they  can  attain  by 
deliberate  effort  or  through  the  accumulated  experi- 
ence of  the  race.  The  latter  is  oftentimes  conven- 
tional, strained  and  hampering.  The  free  spirit  of 
man  is  thus  weighted  with  the  burdens  of  custom 
and  of  authority.  This  of  course  is  essentially  Rous- 
seau's point  of  view.  Herder  found  in  the  early  folk- 
lore and  songs  of  primitive  peoples  material  for  his 
inquiry.  The  primitive  religions  also  offered  him 
the  means  of  studying  the  religious  idea  in  its  forms  of 
instinctive  expression.  What  a  man  feels,  what  he 
gains  through  a  native  poetical  insight,  or  what  over- 
powers his  soul  through  an  instinctive  faith,  here, 
according  to  Herder,  are  the  sources  of  truth.  They 
may  be  deeply  hidden  in  the  past,  but  from  their 
springs  flow  the  clear  and  healing  waters  of  true 
wisdom. 

Moreover,  Herder  interpreted  the  significance  of 
Leibniz's  monads  as  indicating  the  interconnection  of 
all  things  in  the  universe,  both  in  the  course  of  history 
and  in  the  phenomena  of  nature.  This  dependence 
of  individual  upon  individual,  of  generation  upon 
generation,  constitutes  the  fundamental  principle  of 
a  true  philosophy  of  history.  This  is  the  ground  mo- 
tive of  his  Ideen  zur  Philosophie  der  Geschichte  der 
Menschheit.  His  biographer  Haym  characterises 
this  work  of  Herder's  as  follows:  "The  changing 
play  of  vital  forces,  striving  ever  toward  a  higher 
and  more  complete  manifestation,  and  thereby  con- 
serving the  harmony  of  the  great  All,  this  is  the 
theme  of  the  Leibnizian  Monadenpoem;  likewise  the 
upward  movement  of  all  the  organic  forces  of  nature 
to  their  ultimate  realisation  in  humanity,  and  the 
progressive  development  of  humanity  itself  toward 


208  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

ever  higher  and  more  complex  forms,  is  the  theme 
of  Herder's  history  of  philosophy,  concealed  at  times 
though  it  may  be  by  fugitive  thoughts  which  flit 
athwart  the  path  of  his  main  purpose.  In  a  word, 
the  Ideen  form  a  bolder  development  of  the  ideas 
contained  in  the  work  entitled  Vom  Erkennen  und 
Empfinden.  As  the  latter  is  the  natural  history  of 
the  soul  according  to  the  doctrines  of  Leibniz,  from 
the  phenomena  of  sensation  to  the  higher  functions 
of  intelligence  and  of  freedom,  so  also  the  former 
seeks  to  comprehend  within  the  scope  of  a  similar 
historical  evolution  the  natural  and  moral  world  in 
general,  the  earth  and  its  creatures  from  the  lowest 
to  the  highest,  the  vocation  of  man  both  in  this  world 
and  in  the  next,  also  finally  the  past,  the  present  and 
the  future  of  his  earthly  career."  ^ 

The  idea  of  the  harmony  of  the  world  appealed 
strongly  to  Herder's  poetical  temperament  as  well 
as  to  his  religious  feeling.  The  concept  of  evolu- 
tion which  has,  for  the  most  part,  a  strictly  scientific 
connotation  in  the  thought  of  our  modern  world, 
is  for  Herder  a  theme  of  inspiration.  In  it  he  hears 
the  music  of  the  spheres  and  reads  the  law  of  life,  the 
decrees  of  God  and  the  destiny  of  man. 

Both  Herder  and  Lessing  came  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Spinoza  as  well  as  that  of  Leibniz.  They  be- 
lieved in  an  inner  and  immanent  relation  between 
God  and  the  world,  which  was  an  idea  quite  foreign 
to  the  deistical  doctrines  of  their  day;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  expresses  completely  the  point  of  view 
of  Spinoza. 

Lessing  and  Herder  were  not  alone  in  their  more 
sympathetic  interpretation  of  the  phenomena  of  ex- 
perience.    The   feeling  element   in   knowledge  was 

*  Haym,  Herder,  vol.  II,  p.  267. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  209 

illustrated  further  in  the  works  of  Hamaan,  Lavater 
and  Jacobi.  The  latter  particularly  emphasised  the 
element  of  faith  in  religion  which  transcends  the 
sphere  of  knowledge  and  appropriates  stores  of  truth 
wholly  inaccessible  to  the  reason  alone. 

This  movement  of  thought  with  its  various  phases, 
artistic,  poetic  and  religious,  brought  to  the  fore  the 
claims  of  naive  feeling  in  opposition  to  the  rival  and 
exclusive  claims  of  the  pure  intellect.  It  appealed 
strongly  to  the  German  mind  and  left  an  indelible 
impression  upon  the  German  thought.  It  served 
to  temper  the  spirit  of  a  too  formal  and  barren  ra- 
tionalism. It  drew  attention  to  living,  struggling 
humanity,  with  its  pleasures  and  pains,  its  perplexi- 
ties and  cares,  its  purposes,  aspirations  and  hopes, 
as  well  as  to  the  general  laws  which  are  supposed  to 
govern  the  world  and  regulate  the  thought  and  life 
of  man.  It  was  the  appeal  to  actual  fact  from  the 
inadequacies  of  conventional  principles.  It  was  the 
particular  case  in  protest  against  the  attempt  to  force 
it  to  fit  some  ready-made  universal.  Leibniz  had 
taught  that  the  individual  may  be  regarded  as  be- 
longing to  a  class  or  group,  but  not  wholly  or  essen- 
tially. He  is,  after  all,  an  unclassified  unit.  He  is 
within  his  own  nature  unique.  He  may  be  associated 
with  the  general,  but  he  belongs  to  himself.  The 
law,  the  principle  or  formula  may  describe  him,  but 
cannot  comprehend  him.  It  is  this  doctrine  which 
the  combined  extra-rational  tendencies  of  the  poet 
philosophers,  Lessing  and  Herder,  especially  empha- 
sised. They,  in  a  peculiar  manner,  freed  the  teach- 
ing of  Leibniz  from  the  stereotyped  setting  which  it 
had  found  in  the  scholastic  system  of  Wolff,  and  gave 
a  warmer  and  richer  tone  to  the  thought  of  their  day. 
In  this  sense  they  are  the  true  successors  of  Leibniz, 


210  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

and  form  the  natural  line  of  connection  between  the 
great  teacher  and  the  subsequent  development  of 
philosophical  thought  in  Germany. 

Moreover,  this  movement  of  thought,  which  de- 
manded a  place  for  the  feeling  element  in  the  ac- 
count of  the  phenomena  and  principles  of  human 
nature,  was  strongly  reinforced  by  the  widely  reach- 
ing influences  of  pietism;  for  in  pietism,  too,  there 
was  a  natural  protest  of  the  starved  spirit  of  man 
against  the  lifeless  formalism  of  church  dogma  and 
the  tyranny  of  ecclesiastical  authority.  It  served  also 
to  emphasise  the  need  of  some  deeper  knowledge  of 
the  inner  light  of  human  nature. 

The  philosophy  of  the  Aufkldrung  in  Germany  is 
further  illustrated  by  a  movement  of  eclecticism  in 
philosophical  thought,  exceedingly  popular  and  wide- 
spread in  its  influences.  Its  leading  spirit  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century  was  Christian  Thomasius 
(1655-1728),  professor  of  law  at  the  University  of 
Halle  from  its  foundation  in  1694.  He  emphasised 
a  common-sense  appeal  in  philosophical  questions, 
a  spirit  of  tolerance  for  the  truth  which  may  be  con- 
cealed in  seemingly  opposed  systems  of  thought,  and 
the  supreme  importance  of  a  practical  philosophy  of 
life. 

Thomasius  was  a  pioneer  in  this  field  of  popular 
philosophy;  he  was  followed  by  a  group  of  clever  and 
graceful  writers,  as  Mendelssohn,  Nicolai  and  others, 
who  sought  to  give  to  their  thought  an  attractive  and 
interesting  form,  whatever  might  be  the  inconsequence 
of  its  content.  Their  writings  became  the  Philosophy 
for  the  World y  a  name  given  by  Engel,  one  of  the  fore- 
most advocates  of  the  doctrines  of  this  school.  Con- 
cerning this  phrase,  Engel  himself  says:  "These 
words  mean  by  a  philosopher  a  man  who  brings  for- 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  211 

ward  any  truth  that  belongs  to  philosophy  or  that  Is 
considered  philosophically,  it  matters  not  what  it  may 
be  or  in  what  form;  and  they  mean  by  the  world  the 
whole  mixed  public,  where  one  man  favours  one  set 
of  objects,  another  another,  where  one  man  has  a 
liking  for  one  particular  tone,  another  for  another."  ^ 

The  idea  which  is  suggested  in  this  explanation 
is  characteristic  of  this  school  of  Popular  Philos- 
ophers, namely,  that  life  and  its  problems  must  be 
judged  from  many  sides,  and  that  there  must  be  an 
open-mindedness  in  the  approach  to  all  philosophical 
questions.  This  eclectic  and  popular  tendency  is 
conspicuously  illustrated  in  the  works  of  Moses 
Mendelssohn  (1729-86),  a  man  of  the  people,  self- 
taught  and  self-disciplined.  He  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  Lessing,  and  joint  author  with  him  of  the 
essay  submitted  in  competition  for  the  prize  offered 
by  the  Berlin  Academy  of  Sciences,  entitled  Pope, 
ein  Metaphysiker.  The  Academy  had  proposed  as 
subject  for  this  prize  essay  the  philosophical  system 
of  Pope.  Lessing  and  Mendelssohn  took  the  posi- 
tion that  Pope's  Essay  on  Man  did  not  contain  a 
system  of  philosophy  at  all;  moreover,  that  truth  can- 
not be  found  in  any  one  system  whatsoever,  and  that 
poetry  can  never  be  the  vehicle  for  systematic  expres- 
sion of  any  kind.  By  its  very  nature,  poetry  tran- 
scends the  limitations  of  proposition  and  formula, 
and  by  intimation  and  suggestion  enables  us  "to 
feel  what  it  can  ne'er  express  yet  cannot  all  conceal." 

This  interpretation  of  the  poet's  function  in  philos- 
ophy characterises  the  essential  features  of  Mendels- 
sohn's efforts  to  present  a  popular  philosophy  to  the 
thoughtful  minds  of  his  day.  The  rationalistic  and 
empirical  tendencies  which   appear  throughout  his 

^  Erdmann,  History  oj  Philosophy,  Modern,  p.  311. 


212  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

philosophical  discussions  are  variously  mingled,  but 
are  never  treated  in  a  manner  which  shows  an  at- 
tempt at  synthetic  construction  or  the  appreciation 
even  of  the  possibility  of  it.  Associated  with  Men- 
delssohn, and  also  an  intimate  friend  of  Lessing,  is 
the  great  editor,  Friedrich  Nicolai  (1733-1811).  For 
over  twenty-one  years  he  was  the  sole  editor  of  the 
Allgemeine  Deutsche  Bibliothek^  a  series  of  volumes, 
essentially  critical,  which  became  the  organ  of  the 
"enlightened  philosophers,"  for  the  expression  of  a 
common-sense  view  of  things  in  the  field  of  religion, 
philosophy,  art  and  literature.  Nicolai  always  main- 
tained that,  as  a  man  of  business  and  of  affairs,  he 
was  able  to  form  a  more  critical  and  practical  esti- 
mate of  philosophical  values,  because  he  was  free 
from  all  academic  tradition  and  prejudice.  His 
worth  in  the  history  of  thought  is  to  be  assessed  more 
by  what  he  inspired  in  others  than  by  what  he  suc- 
ceeded in  accomplishing  himself. 

There  was  in  Germany  during  this  period  still 
another  distinct  current  of  thought  which  found  ex- 
pression among  a  group  of  young  teachers  and  au- 
thors who  approached  the  subject  of  philosophy  in  a 
more  systematic  manner.  They  were  convinced  of 
the  inadequacy  of  a  pure  intellectualism,  and  based 
their  protest,  not  upon  religious  or  practical  grounds, 
but  upon  a  conscious  philosophical  need  of  a  more 
serious  study  of  empirical  psychology.  Wolff  had 
emphasised  unduly  the  significance  of  the  rational 
psychology;  and  a  decided  reaction  from  this  exclu- 
sive point  of  view  naturally  occurred.  Prominent 
in  this  circle  of  inquirers  who  were  not  satisfied  with 
the  hard  and  fast  lines  of  the  Wolffian  system,  was 
Johann  Nicolas  Tetens.  In  his  preface  to  his  Philo- 
sophische  Versuchen  iiher  die  menschliche  Natur  und 


PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  213 

ihre  Entwickelung  he  expresses  very  forcibly  the 
limitations  of  the  purely  metaphysical  method: 
"Metaphysical  analysis  must  conclude,  not  begin,  our 
inquiry  as  to  the  nature  of  the  soul.  It  must  be 
preceded  by  psychological  analysis.  Once  this  has 
been  accomplished,  metaphysical  analysis  is  reduced 
to  that  of  a  few  fundamental  faculties  and  modes  of 
operation,  and  is  then,  in  this  abridged  form,  to  be 
carried  as  far  as  may  be.  Where  this  empirical 
knowledge  of  the  fundamental  faculties  is  still  lack- 
ing, however,  it  is  useless  to  attempt  to  explain  them 
by  means  of  so  obscure  an  organisation  as  the  soul. 
Moreover,  however  far  we  proceed  in  metaphysical 
psychology,  the  authenticity  of  its  propositions  must 
always  be  tested  by  empirical  knowledge."  ^ 

Thus  various  influences  combined  to  indicate  the 
inadequacy  of  a  too  exclusive  intellectualism.  While 
empiricism  was  exhibiting  its  natural  limitations 
through  the  development  of  the  materialistic  phil- 
osophy in  France,  intellectualism,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  passing  through  a  similar  trying-out  process  in 
Germany.  In  view  of  all  these  various  tendencies  of 
thought,  each  with  its  obvious  limitations  as  an  ade- 
quate philosophy  of  life  and  of  knowledge,  the  ques- 
tion naturally  suggests  itself  whether  out  of  these 
diverse  and  often  contradictory  fragments  it  may  not 
be  possible  to  reconstruct  a  philosophy  which  will 
bring  together  the  seemingly  incongruous  parts  and 
order  them  in  a  harmonious  whole.  The  attempt  to 
answer  this  question  brings  us  to  the  critical  method 
and  philosophy  of  Kant,  in  which  the  light  of  the 
Aufkldrung  is  by  no  means  extinguished,  but  the 
rather  is  absorbed  within  a  brighter  centre  of  illu- 
mination. 

'  Philosophische  Versuchen,  I,  p.  xiii. 


214  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

References. — G.  G.  Gervinus:  Geschichte  der  deutschen  Dichtung, 
vol.  IV.    Leipzig,  1853. 

H.  Hettner:  Litter atur geschichte  des  achtzehnten  Jahrhunderts. 
Brunswick,  1862-70. 

J.  Sime:   Lessing:  His  Life  and  Writings.     London,  1873. 

R.  Haym:  Herder  nach  seinem  Leben  und  nach  seinen  Werken. 
Berlin,  1877. 

J.  T.  Merz:  Leibniz.  Part  II,  chap.  IV,  The  Fate  oj  Leibniz's  Phil- 
osophy.    Edinburgh,  1884. 

Kuno  Fischer:  Leibniz's  Leben,  Werke  und  Lehre  Drittes  Buch,  von 
Leibniz  zu  Kant.     Heidelberg,  1902. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  CRITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT 

The  philosophical  movement  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  as  we  have  seen,  discloses  two  underlying 
currents,  the  one  of  empiricism  and  the  other  of  ra- 
tionalism. These  philosophical  points  of  view  repre- 
sent two  distinct  types  of  mind  which  are  radically 
different,  and  which  would  seem,  on  the  surface  at 
least,  in  irreconcilable  opposition.  From  the  stand- 
point of  either  one,  a  fire  of  criticism  may  be  trained 
upon  the  other  with  most  telling  effect.  And  yet,  not- 
withstanding this,  each  in  turn  reveals  its  own  in- 
herent inadequacy  as  a  method  of  constructing  a  com- 
plete body  of  knowledge;  and  the  historical  develop- 
ment of  the  philosophical  thought  during  this  period 
clearly  proves  it.  The  many  attempts,  however,  to 
solve  the  problem  of  knowledge,  and  the  interminable 
controversies  which  they  engendered,  were  not  alto- 
gether futile  and  unsatisfactory.  They  helped  at 
least  to  eliminate  certain  errors,  and  to  establish 
here  and  there  preliminary  and  partial  statements 
of  truth,  whose  complementary  elements  were  to  be 
disclosed  later.  They  formed  necessary  stages  in  the 
development  of  a  more  complete  and  adequate  solu- 
tion of  the  philosophical  problem,  and  they  served 
also  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  more  profound  insight 
by  which  the  elements  of  opposition  in  clashing  sys- 
tems might  be  harmonised  so  as  to  reveal  underlying 
relations  of  a  truly  reciprocal  nature.     The  important 

215 


216  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

office  of  reconciliation  and  reconstruction  fell  to  the 
lot  of  Immanuel  Kant  (i 724-1804). 

He  was  eminently  equal  to  the  task,  for  his  was 
essentially  a  synoptical  mind,  that  is,  a  mind  which 
naturally  tends  to  see  things  together,  rather  than 
apart;  to  see  things  as  related  which  a  merely  sur- 
lace  observation  would  regard  as  wholly  unrelated 
and  disconnected. 

In  his  first  published  work  in  1746,  Gedanken  von 
der  wahren  Schatzung  der  lehendigen  Kr'dfte,  Kant 
gives  expression  to  a  conviction  which  is  particularly 
characteristic  of  his  general  point  of  view  concerning 
opposed  schools  of  thought:  "We  are  in  a  way  defend- 
ing the  honour  of  human  reason  when  we  reconcile 
it  with  itself  in  the  persons  of  different  writers  of  high 
intelligence,  and  discover  the  truth,  which  by  such 
men  is  never  entirely  missed,  even  in  their  contra- 
dictory utterances."  This  remark  referred  originally 
to  Kant's  attempts  to  reconcile  the  different  views  of 
Descartes  and  Leibniz  concerning  the  nature  of  vis 
viva,  and  yet  it  may  be  fairly  regarded  as  typical 
of  the  attitude  of  thought  which  he  maintained 
throughout  the  whole  course  of  his  philosophical 
studies.  This  mediating  tendency  in  his  thinking 
may  be  observed  in  a  conspicuous  manner  in  his 
efforts  to  harmonise  the  empirical  and  rationahstic 
methods  in  the  pursuit  of  truth.  And  for  our  dis- 
cussion this  particular  phase  of  his  general  point 
of  view  is  most  pertinent  and  significant.  He 
recognised  the  natural  limits  which  were  inherently 
connected  with  either  method,  and  yet  at  the  same 
time  he  fully  appreciated  that  the  relations  which 
they  sustained  one  to  the  other  might  be  regarded 
as  complementary,  each  supplying  that  which  had 
proved  wanting  in  the  other.     Such  a  reconciliation, 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  217 

however,  could  be  brought  about  only  on  a  higher 
level  of  thought.  It  is  a  level  difficult  to  attain,  and 
yet  eminently  worth  attaining.  It  is  not  gained  how- 
ever by  unreflective  minds.  It  is  only  the  arduous 
labour  of  thought  which  achieves  such  an  end  as  its 
reward.  The  different  systems  which  the  philoso- 
phy of  the  Aufkldrung  had  produced  all  tended,  in 
various  ways,  to  separate  the  knowing  mind  from  its 
object  of  knowledge,  and  to  insinuate  a  wedge  of 
cleavage  between  thought  and  reality.  The  many 
controversies  had  been  like  so  many  blows  to  drive 
the  wedge  deeper  home.  It  was  Kant's  function  to 
bring  together  the  separated  elements  and  to  restore 
them  to  their  proper  settings  as  parts  of  a  unified 
whole. 

Kant  was  peculiarly  fitted  for  this  work  of  recon- 
struction, not  merely  on  account  of  his  natural  habit 
of  mind,  that  of  seeing  the  congruence  of  the  seem- 
ingly disparate  elements  of  knowledge,  but  more 
particularly  because  in  his  own  thinking  he  had 
passed  through  the  various  phases  of  thought  which 
on  a  larger  scale  had  characterised  the  philosophical 
movement  of  the  eighteenth  century.  This  would 
seem  to  illustrate,  in  the  field  of  philosophy  at  least, 
the  famous  theory  of  recapitulation  which  Lessing 
insisted  upon,  that  the  path  by  which  the  race  reaches 
its  perfection  every  individual  man  must  sooner  or 
later  traverse.  The  high  vantage  ground  from  which 
opposed  philosophers  could  be  discerned  as  friends 
rather  than  foes  was  not  reached  by  Kant  at  a  single 
bound.  His  thought  passed  through  a  natural  proc- 
ess of  evolution  in  which  it  is  possible  to  note  three 
distinct  stages: 

1.  A  period  of  rationalism. 

2.  A  period  of  empiricism. 


218  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

3.  A  period  in  which  Kant  endeavoured  to  effect 
a  synthesis  of  these  two  opposed  systems,  which  re- 
sulted in  the  so-called  critical  philosophy. 

In  the  first  period  Kant  was  a  follower  of  the 
prevalent  Wolffian  philosophy  of  his  day.  Even  in 
this  early  period  there  were  intimations  of  a  spirit 
of  protest  on  Kant's  part  concerning  the  inadequate 
features  of  dogmatism.  The  chief  work  expressing 
the  rationalistic  attitude  of  his  thought  is  that  with 
which  in  1755  he  "habilitated"  as  privat-docent  in 
the  University  of  Konigsberg,  entitled  Principtorum 
prtmorum   cognitionis   metaphysicce  nova  dilucidatio. 

In  the  second  period  he  reacted  substantially  from 
the  Leibniz-Wolffian  influences,  as  may  be  seen  in 
the  essays  which  he  published  in  1762-63,  Die  falsche 
Spitzfindigkeit  der  vier  syllogisUschen  Figuren  er- 
wiesen;  Der  einzig  mogliche  Bweisgrund  zu  einer 
Demonstration  vom  Dasein  Gottes;  Untersuchung 
uher  die  Deuthchkeit  der  Grundsdtze  der  naturlichen 
Theologie  und  Moral;  Versuch  den  Be  griff  der  nega- 
tiven  Grossen  in  die  Weltweisheit  einzufiihren. 

In  this  period  Kant  questions  the  traditional  dem- 
onstrations of  metaphysics  concerning  the  being  of 
God;  and  takes  the  significant  position  that  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  that  one  should  convince  him- 
self of  the  existence  of  God,  but  not  so  essential  that 
one  should  demonstrate  it.  He  draws  the  distinc- 
tion, moreover,  between  the  contradiction  of  concepts 
and  the  opposition  of  facts;  and  insists  that,  while 
two  contradictory  ideas  cannot  exist  together  in 
thought,  it  is  quite  possible  that  a  negative  force  may 
neutralise  a  positive  one,  or  modify  it,  in  the  world 
of  actual  facts.  He  appreciates  also  the  difficulties 
in  the  traditional  account  of  the  nature  of  causation 
as  contained  in  the  Wolffian  philosophy  of  the  day. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  219 

and  in  all  of  these  essays  there  is  a  growing  sceptical 
attitude  toward  all  speculations  which  are  not 
grounded  in  experience. 

The  break  with  Leibniz  and  a  leaning  toward  the 
empiricism  of  Locke  is  even  more  strongly  marked 
in  Kant's  Trdume  eines  Geistersehers  erldutert  durch 
Trdume  der  Metaphysik,  which  he  published  in  1766. 
This  is  a  still  more  decided  protest  against  all  theo- 
ries in  philosophy  which  transcend  experience. 

The  third  period  begins  in  1770  with  the  publica- 
tion of  Kant's  Inaugural  Dissertation,  Disputatio  de 
mundi  sensibilis  atque  intelltgihilts  forma  et  princtpiis ; 
and  it  extends  to  the  year  1781,  which  marks  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  great  Kritik  der  re'inen  Vernunft.  In 
this  period  we  find  a  gradual  development  of  his  crit- 
ical method.  The  point  of  view  finally  reached  in  the 
Kritik  was  the  result  of  a  slow  process  of  the  most 
earnest  labour  of  thought  extending  over  some  eleven 
years,  from  1770  to  178 1.  In  the  Dissertation  there 
is  an  obvious  tendency  to  regard  the  sensible  and  the 
intelligible  worlds  as  wholly  distinct.  Leibniz  had 
regarded  the  difference  between  the  two  worlds  as 
consisting  in  the  relative  clearness  of  the  knowledge 
which  is  given  by  them.  According  to  Leibniz,  sensa- 
tion is  only  a  confused  form  of  thought.  Kant,  how- 
ever, does  not  regard  the  difference  as  one  of  degree 
but  of  kind,  and  insists  that  the  two  spheres  are 
distinct  and  separate.  Kant  at  this  period  in  the 
development  of  his  philosophical  system  regards  the 
intelligible  world  as  constituting  the  world  of  reality, 
somewhat  after  the  manner  of  Plato,  and  through  its 
ideas  he  is  convinced  that  one  might  determine,  on 
the  grounds  of  pure  reason  alone,  the  general  nature 
and  characteristic  features  of  experience;  that  is,  this 
point  of  view  represented  a  strictly  rationalistic  in- 


220  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

terpretation  of  the  world  of  knowledge.  This  posi- 
tion, however,  brought  to  Kant  certain  misgivings 
which  he  could  not  satisfactorily  explain.  These  are 
expressed  in  his  famous  letter  to  his  friend  Marcus 
Herz,  of  the  21st  of  February,  1772.  He  says  in 
part:  *'I  noted  that  something  essential  was  wanting, 
something  which  I  myself,  in  my  long  metaphysical 
researches,  and  all  others,  had  left  out  of  account, 
and  which  in  fact  gives  the  key  to  all  the  mysteries 
of  metaphysics;  for  I  asked  myself  on  what  rests 
the  reference  to  the  object  of  that  which  we  call  ideas 
in  us .?  .  .  .  Our  understanding  does  not  produce 
the  object  which  it  apprehends,  nor  is  the  object  the 
cause  of  its  ideas  (in  sensu  realt). 

''Thus  the  pure  concepts  of  the  understanding 
cannot  be  abstracted  from  the  feelings  of  sense,  nor 
are  they  simply  the  expression  of  the  character  of 
our  passive  receptivity, 

"They  have  their  sources,  indeed,  in  the  nature 
of  the  soul,  but  they  are  neither  the  result  of  the 
action  of  the  object  upon  it  nor  do  they  produce 
the  object.  In  my  Dissertation  I  was  content  to 
explain  their  nature  in  a  negative  way,  and  to  say 
only  that  they  are  not  modifications  of  the  soul  pro- 
duced by  the  object.  But  now  I  must  ask  in  what 
other  way  an  idea  is  possible,  which  refers  to  an 
object,  without  being  the  effect  of  an  impression 
from  that  object.  I  had  asserted  in  the  Disserta- 
tion that  ideas  of  sense  represent  things  as  they  ap- 
pear, and  ideas  of  the  understanding  represent  things 
as  they  are.  But  how  can  these  things  be  made 
known  to  us  if  not  by  the  manner  in  which  they 
affect  us  ?  And  if  the  ideas  of  the  understanding 
arise  from  the  inner  activity  of  thought,  whence 
comes  the  agreement  which  such  ideas  must  have 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  221 

with  those  objects  which,  however,  they  do  not  pro- 
duce ?  And  how  can  the  axiomatic  truths  of  the 
pure  reason  conform  to  these  objects  without  this 
agreement  being  in  any  way  dependent  upon  ex- 
perience ?  In  mathematics  this  is  possible,  for  the 
objects  with  which  it  deals  are  quantities  and  can 
be  so  represented,  simply  because  we  are  able  to 
form  ideas  of  them  by  taking  a  unit  several  times 
over.  The  mind  actively  constructs  its  ideas  of 
quantity,  and  therefore  we  can  understand  how  the 
fundamental  principles  underlying  the  concept  of 
quantity  can  be  developed  in  a  purely  a  priori  man- 
ner. But  as  regards  the  concept  of  quality,  how  is 
it  possible  for  my  understanding  to  form  an  idea  of 
the  nature  of  things  with  which  idea  the  things 
themselves  must  of  necessity  agree;  how  shall  it 
lay  down  real  principles  as  to  their  possibility  to 
which  experience  must  exactly  conform,  and  which 
nevertheless  are  independent  of  experience  t  Such 
a  question  always  leaves  the  problem  in  obscurity 
as  to  how  the  possibility  of  conforming  to  the  nature 
of  things  themselves  can  belong  to  the  faculty  of  the 
understanding."  * 

This  is  the  dilemma  of  the  transition  period  of 
Kant's  thought.  How  can  an  idea  in  the  mind  refer 
to  an  external  object  ?  No  satisfactory  answer  to 
this  question  was  possible  so  long  as  the  position  of 
the  Dissertation  was  maintained  which  separated  the 
world  of  sense  from  the  world  of  intellect.  The  new 
position  of  the  Critique.,  however,  no  longer  allows 
that  these  two  spheres  are  separate  and  distinct,  but 
regards  them  from  the  point  of  view  of  their  recipro- 
cal functions.  Thus  in  the  process  of  sense  percep- 
tion there  must  be  the  co-operative  activity  of  the 

^  Kant's  Werke,  Hartenstein,  VIII,  689  /. 


222  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

intellect;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  activity  of  the 
intellect  has  play  only  within  the  sphere  of  experience, 
and  is  wholly  unable  to  go  beyond  or  back  of  that  ex- 
perience as  it  is  disclosed  in  the  ordinary  phenomena 
which  constitute  the  warp  and  woof  of  our  lives. 
This  position  marks  the  new  point  of  view  estab- 
lished by  the  Critique,  and  represents  the  result  of 
the  evolution  of  Kant's  thought  in  this  decade  be- 
tween the  Dissertation  and  the  publication  of  his 
great  work  in  1781. 

The  characterisation  of  Kant's  philosophy  as 
"critical,"  and  his  method  as  the  "critical"  method, 
admits  of  a  various  interpretation.  And  yet,  amidst 
all  the  different  shades  of  meaning  of  which  the  term 
is  capable  in  the  Kantian  usage,  there  is,  however, 
a  fundamental  meaning  which  is  consistently  main- 
tained, whatever  may  be  the  more  subtle  nuances 
associated  with  It.  The  critical  method  is  an  ex- 
amination of  the  knowing  processes  of  the  mind  for 
the  purpose  of  discovering  some  satisfactory  basis 
of  discrimination  between  the  a  priori  and  the  a 
posteriori  sources  of  knowledge;  that  is,  between  the 
material  which  the  mind  discovers  to  be  necessary  and 
universal,  and  the  material  which  is  given  through 
particular  experiences,  and  whose  nature  no  activ- 
ity of  the  mind  could  possibly  forecast.  The  criti- 
cal method  seeks,  therefore,  to  establish  the  exact 
scope  and  function  of  each  of  these  two  sources  of 
knowledge. 

In  this  sense  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  may 
be  regarded  as  a  logic  of  limits.  It  Is  essentially 
the  function  of  our  critical  faculty  to  set  defining 
boundaries  and  draw  precise  lines  of  discrimination, 
for  it  is  only  through  a  fine  sense  of  discrimination 
that  the  true  relations  which  underlie  the  surface 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  223 

appearance  of  things  can  be  discovered.  Moreover, 
discrimination  does  not  necessarily  set  the  objects  of 
its  inquiry  in  opposition  the  one  to  the  other;  it 
quite  as  often  results  in  effecting  their  union  as  their 
separation.  And  in  the  case  of  the  critical  reflec- 
tions of  Kant  the  results  are  constructive  rather 
than  destructive.  His  argument  was  no  polemic 
either  against  rationalism  or  empiricism.  He  held 
no  brief  for  the  exclusive  interests  of  either  one  in 
the  field  of  knowledge.  Kant's  effort  to  determine 
the  definite  limits  of  these  sources  of  knowledge  was 
for  the  very  purpose  of  establishing  more  clearly  and 
precisely  their  co-ordinate  functions  and  powers. 
The  critical  philosophy  has  an  essentially  irenic 
character;  it  seeks  to  harmonise  rather  than  antag- 
onise; to  bring  together  rather  than  to  hold  apart; 
and  to  show  that  surface  contradiction  may  merely 
conceal  a  more  fundamental  relation  of  complemen- 
tary and  reciprocal  functions.  However,  this  pecu- 
liar insight  which  is  able  to  bring  about  a  recon- 
ciliation of  opposites  is  not  possible  on  the  lower 
levels  of  reflection.  It  is  not  something  which  is 
obvious,  and  even  when  finally  apprehended,  it  is 
not  easy  to  express  or  explain.  Kant  himself  did 
not  apprehend  it  at  a  glance,  but  only  by  a  slow  and 
patient  evolution  of  thought. 

There  is  another  characterisation  of  the  method 
of  Kant's  philosophical  inquiry,  which,  when  under- 
stood, throws  further  light  upon  the  task  of  inter- 
preting the  Critique;  it  is  the  designation  of  the 
Kantian  method  as  the  "transcendental"  method, 
and  the  logic  which  supports  it  as  the  "transcen- 
dental" logic.  The  transcendental  logic  takes  the 
point  of  view  that  there  are  certain  universal  and 
necessary  elements  in  all  knowledge,  whose  origin 


224  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

is  to  be  found  in  the  nature  of  our  thought  and  not 
in  the  objects  of  experience  themselves.  The  word 
transcendental  does  not  imply  that  knowledge  of 
this  kind  transcends  experience;  it  refers  rather  to 
that  unique  kind  of  knowledge  which  is  common  to 
all  experience^  and  without  which  experience  would 
be  impossible^  Moreover,  no  single  experience,  nor 
any  mass  of  experience,  either  individual  or  racial, 
is  capable  of  revealing  such  knowledge,  or  of  furnish- 
ing a  sufficient  ground  for  it.  Because  it  deter- 
mines experience,  it  cannot  be  the  result  of  experi- 
ence. We  must  the  rather  seek  its  source  and 
warrant  in  the  nature  of  those  necessary  and  uni- 
versal forms  of  thought  which  condition  the  very 
possibility  of  experience  itself,  as  well  as  constitute 
its  essential  character  and  scope.  Given  the  type 
of  mind  such  as  that  which  we  possess,  its  nature 
determines  the  peculiar  kind  of  experience  of  which 
we  are  capable.  The  characteristic  features  of 
the  mind  which  determine  the  nature  of  experi- 
ence in  this  respect  are  revealed  to  us  in  an  a  priori 
manner.  The  priority,  however,  according  to  Kant, 
is  logical  and  not  chronological.  We  do  not  first 
become  aware  of  these  principles  of  thought,  and 
then  observe  them  as  they  may  be  illustrated  after- 
ward in  experience.  But  inasmuch  as  they  appear 
constantly  in  every  actual  experience,  and  as  it  is 
impossible  to  eliminate  them  from  any  conceivable 
experience  whatsoever,  we  therefore  come  to  regard 
them  as  possessing  a  necessary  and  universal  char- 
acter which  renders  them  a  determining  factor  in  all 
experience,  and  constitutes  in  this  respect  their 
essential  priority. 

Moreover,  this  a  priori  element  in  knowledge  is 
not  derived,  on  our  part,  by  the  analysis  of  some 


PHILOSOPHY  OF   KANT  225 

concept  which  we  discover  in  the  field  of  knowledge. 
It  is  not  a  rediscovery  in  our  ideas  of  something 
previously  obtained  by  experience.  Experience,  of 
course,  records  itself  in  ideas,  and  these  ideas,  in 
turn,  when  closely  scrutinised,  reveal  truths  whose 
particular  origin  in  experience  we  may  fail  wholly  to 
remember.  The  a  priori  element  in  knowledge  has 
a  clearer  title,  however,  than  this.  There  is  a  radi- 
cal difference  which  Kant  expresses  by  referring  the 
a  priori  element  to  a  synthetic  rather  than  an  ana- 
lytic process  of  thought.  The  distinction  between 
analytical  and  synthetical  judgments  is  one  which 
lies  at  the  very  centre  of  the  entire  argument  of  the 
Critique.  \n  the  analytical  judgment  the  predicate 
is  merely  explicative,  that  is,  it  exhibits  some  obvi- 
ous and  essential  characteristic  of  the  subject;  in  the 
synthetical  judgment,  on  the  other  hand,  the  predi- 
cate is  ampliative,  that  is,  it  adds  some  characteristic 
attribute  to  the  nature  of  the  subject  which  no  proc- 
ess of  analysing  the  idea  of  the  subject  as  known  to  us 
could  ever  possibly  suggest.  The  synthetical  judg- 
ment possesses  the  peculiar  function  of  extending  the 
content  of  our  ideas,  and  thus  increasing  our  store 
of  knowledge.  The  fact  that  water  under  normal 
circumstances  will  boil  at  212°  F.  is  a  synthetical 
judgment.  It  gives  us  exact  information  of  which 
the  bare  concept  of  water  by  itself  could  never  pos- 
sibly disclose  through  any  process  of  mental  analy- 
sis, however  subtle  and  acute  it  might  be.  And  the 
same  is  true  of  all  those  judgments  of  experience  by 
which  our  ideas  are  enlarged  and  the  range  of  knowl- 
edge extended.  The  synthetic  judgments  of  this  type, 
therefore,  all  have  an  a  posteriori  origin.  The  infor- 
mation which  they  impart  is  given  to  us  by  the 
things  which  we  actually  see  or  hear  or  taste  or  touch. 


226  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

But  the  point  which  Kant  suggests  is  the  possi- 
bility of  our  forming  any  synthetic  judgments  which 
have  a  purely  a  priori  origin,  that  is,  judgments 
which  thought  itself  discovers  to  be  the  necessary  and 
indispensable  conditions  of  the  very  possibility  of  any 
sense  experience  whatsoever.  This  is  the  central  and 
most  fundamental  problem  of  the  Critique.  Upon  it 
the  entire  discussion  hinges.  It  is  the  attempt  to 
furnish  an  answer  to  this  question  in  all  of  its  bearings 
that  virtually  constitutes  the  subject-matter  of  the 
critical  philosophy.  To  understand  the  argument  of 
the  Critique  it  is  necessary  to  appreciate  fully  the  sig- 
nificance of  this  problem.  And  the  significance  of 
this  problem  will  be  the  better  appreciated  if  we  con- 
sider it  in  the  light  of  Hume's  insuperable  difficulty 
concerning  the  nature  of  causation.  Kant  himself 
made  Hume's  argument  the  point  of  departure  for  his 
discussion,  both  in  the  manner  of  stating  the  question 
concerning  the  possibility  of  synthetical  judgments 
a  prion,  and  also  in  his  efforts  to  think  out  a  sat- 
isfactory solution  of  the  problem.  In  speaking  of 
Hume  in  this  connection  Kant  says:  "How  is  it 
possible,  says  that  acute  man,  that  when  a  concept 
is  given  me,  I  can  go  beyond  it  and  connect  with  it 
another  which  is  not  contained  in  it,  and  in  such  a 
manner  as  if  the  latter  necessarily  belonged  to  the 
former  .?  Nothing  but  experience  can  furnish  us  with 
connections  of  that  sort  (this  was  his  inference  from 
that  difficulty,  which  he  held  an  impossibility),  and 
all  that  supposed  necessity,  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  all  cognition  a  priori  (held  to  be  such)  is  noth- 
ing but  a  long  habit  of  finding  something  true,  and 
hence  of  holding  subjective  necessity  to  be  objective."' 

*  Kant,  Prolegomena  to  Any  Future  M  eta  physic,  Mahaffy's  translation, 
p.  28. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  227 

Hume  contends  that  all  the  phenomena  of  experi- 
ence are  separate  existences,  and  that  separate  exist- 
ences, for  the  very  reason  that  they  are  separate,  can- 
not in  themselves  give  any  evidence  of  a  necessary 
connection  between  them,  and  that  the  idea  of  neces- 
sary connection  so  indissolubly  associated  with  the 
events  of  our  experience  is  one  which  our  minds,  long 
immersed  in  custom,  have  projected  upon  experience 
without  any  objective  warrant.  Consequently,  that 
which  we  thus  read  into  the  phenomena  of  life  must 
be  regarded  as  wholly  illusory.  It  is  precisely  at  this 
point  that  Kant  joins  issue  with  Hume,  and  insists 
that  there  are  certain  judgments  which  the  very  na- 
ture of  thought  itself  constrains  us  to  form,  and 
which  force  upon  us  the  idea  of  a  necessary  connec- 
tion among  the  various  events  of  our  experience, 
whatever  these  events  in  particular  may  be.  Such 
judgments,  therefore,  have  a  purely  a  priori  origin. 
The  idea  of  necessary  connection  does  not  rest  upon 
the  scope  of  our  experience,  however  exhaustive  and 
painstaking  an  induction  we  may  pursue;  for  expe- 
rience always  falls  short  of  the  universal,  and  if  the 
universal  validity  of  an  idea  cannot  be  maintained, 
its  necessity  is  also  invalidated.  Not  only  is  the  idea 
of  necessity  not  the  result  of  experience,  but  the  very 
possibility  of  any  experience  at  all  is  inconceivable, 
unless  we  presuppose  that  it  will  occur  in  connection 
with  other  experiences  before  and  after,  which  are 
bound  together  with  it  by  those  necessary  ties  of 
sequence  and  coexistence  which  the  mind  by  its  very 
nature  expects,  and  whose  existence  it  imperiously 
demands. 

From  this  point  of  view  Kant's  Critique  may  be 
regarded  as  a  metaphysic  of  induction.  By  this  I 
refer  to  the  obvious  limitation  of  all  inductive  pro- 


228  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

cedure,  wherein  we  have  given  at  most  a  multiplicity 
of  special  cases,  with  the  theoretical  possibility,  at 
least,  that  exceptions  beyond  the  range  of  our  obser- 
vation may  exist;  nevertheless,  our  generalisations, 
based  solely  upon  the  array  of  special  cases  before 
us,  do  actually  carry  with  them  the  conviction  of 
necessity  and  universality.  No  mass  of  particular 
instances,  however  imposing,  can  of  itself  constitute 
a  universal.  No  process  of  adding  special  case  to 
special  case  can  of  itself  evolve  the  idea  of  necessity. 
The  truth  is,  Kant  maintains,  if  the  single  instance 
did  not  give  a  clear  intimation  of  a  necessary  origin 
and  a  universal  validity  as  a  part  of  an  ordered  and 
systematic  whole,  then  no  multiplying  of  such  in- 
stances could  possibly  give  a  sufficient  warrant  for 
formulating  a  universal  law  as  necessitated  by  them. 
Inasmuch  as  it  is  evident,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the 
mere  repetition  of  experiences  is  incapable  by  itself 
of  creating  the  idea  of  necessity,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  no  single  experience,  however  simple,  can 
be  satisfactorily  interpreted  by  us  without  supposing 
that  it  must  have  occurred  through  some  law  of  neces- 
sity, we  cannot  escape  the  obvious  conclusion  that 
the  idea  of  the  necessary  connection  of  the  events 
of  life  is  the  condition  of  experience  and  not  the 
result  of  it.  A  world  of  detached  and  unrelated 
events  is  not  the  kind  of  a  world  which  we  are  capa- 
ble of  experiencing,  or  which  our  minds  are  capable 
of  conceiving.  We  do  not  think  in  such  a  world, 
we  do  not  plan  for  it  nor  do  we  act  in  it.  Constituted 
as  we  are,  we  can  apprehend  things  only  as  neces- 
sarily connected,  and  as  sustaining  certain  relations 
which  must  prove  universally  valid. 

Even  where  the  necessity  is  veiled  and  the  sup- 
posed  universality   is   confronted   with   outstanding 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  229 

exceptions,  nevertheless,  it  is  the  fundamental  belief 
in  some  underlying  necessity  and  universal  signifi- 
cance which  spurs  our  endeavour  to  persevering  re- 
search, and  renders  the  mind  impatient  of  inexact 
methods  and  inadequate  results.  The  spirit  of  all 
scientific  inquiry  bears  witness  to  this.  There  is  a 
natural  urgency  of  the  mind  which  demands  order,  sys- 
tem, consistency  and  the  sufficient  reason  in  investi- 
gating the  phenomena  of  nature  and  the  events  of  life. 

This  idea,  therefore,  of  the  necessary  connection 
of  things  is  one  which  can  never  arise  as  the  result 
of  experience  merely,  but  is  itself  the  presupposition 
and  condition  of  the  very  possibility  of  any  experience 
whatsoever  and  which  has  its  origin  in  the  funda- 
mental nature  of  the  knowing  processes  of  the  mind. 
Consequently  such  an  idea  must  be  regarded  as  pos- 
sessing an  essentially  a  priori  character.  It  has  also 
a  strongly  marked  synthetical  property,  not  merely 
because  there  is  added  a  new  idea  to  the  mani- 
fold of  the  phenomena  of  consciousness,  but  be- 
cause the  new  idea  which  is  added  is  one  of  unique 
instrumental  value  in  fashioning  the  otherwise  unre- 
lated parts  of  knowledge  into  a  systematic  whole. 
As  such,  it  represents  essentially  an  organising  func- 
tion of  thought. 

Kant,  however,  in  dealing  with  the  problem  of  the 
possibility  of  synthetic  judgments  a  priori^  is  not 
satisfied  with  considering  it  merely  in  the  light  of 
Hume's  sceptical  attitude  in  respect  to  the  doctrine 
of  causation.  This  is  merely  a  point  of  departure 
from  which  the  way  is  opened  to  a  more  thorough  and 
comprehensive  treatment  of  the  synthetical  functions 
of  the  mind  in  general.  Kant  conceives  the  funda- 
mental nature  of  thought  in  all  of  its  phases  as  syn- 
thetical, that  is,  as  possessing  a  capacity  to  build 


230  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

together  the  elementary  fragments  of  knowledge 
which  are  given  in  experience  so  that  they  form  a 
systematic  and  ordered  whole  and  thereby  become 
intelligible.  This  integrating  power  of  thought,  how- 
ever, is  not  confined  to  the  familiar  processes  of 
reason  wherein  ideas  already  completely  formed  and 
definitely  determined  are  massed  in  the  most  efiTective 
manner  for  the  purposes  of  argument,  or  it  may  be 
wrought  into  plans  for  enterprises  of  large  scope  and 
significance,  or  are  so  combined  as  to  suggest  policies 
which  possibly  may  concern  the  life  of  a  nation  or  the 
welfare  of  a  people.  This  conception  of  the  mind's 
activity  Locke  developed  at  length  in  the  Essay. 
Kant's  idea  of  the  constructive  power  of  the  under- 
standing is  far  more  fundamental  than  this.  Not 
merely  are  the  fully  formed  products  of  thought 
skilfully  ordered  by  the  mind,  but  at  the  very 
threshold  of  knowledge  itself,  where  the  crude  ele- 
mental material  is  furnished  through  the  senses,  the 
mind  is  already  actively  engaged  in  fashioning  and 
informing  the  given  material  according  to  its  own 
native  powers.  The  simplest  perceptions  in  the  field 
of  consciousness  are  not  received  passively  by  the 
mind,  but  are  produced  by  the  active  working  of 
thought  upon  the  sensory  material.  In  the  process 
of  the  simplest  perception,  though  it  be  only  a  momen- 
tary sweep  of  vision  or  the  mere  glance  of  the  eye, 
the  many  crude  and  separate  elements  of  sensation 
are  transmuted  into  the  ordered  parts  of  a  single, 
complete  and  unified  object  of  thought.  It  is  essen- 
tially a  process  of  transmutation^  and  not  of  mere 
passive  reception  and  transmission.  Kant  has  no 
sympathy  with  what  I  would  characterise  as  the  pho- 
tographic theory  of  sense  perception,  namely,  that 
the  mind   receives  through  the  mechanism  of  our 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  231 

sense  organs  an  impression  of  external  objects  in 
somewhat  the  same  manner  that  a  photographic 
plate  receives  upon  its  sensitive  surface  the  picture 
of  the  object  to  which  the  camera  may  be  directed. 
Without  the  constructive  function  of  thought  to  or- 
ganise the  chaotic  mass  of  sensory  elements,  our  per- 
ceptions could  never  be  other  than  a  confused  blur 
of  a  hopelessly  clouded  vision.  In  a  very  significant 
and  true  sense,  therefore,  seeing  is  thinking. 

This  synthetic  function  of  thought  Kant  treats  at 
length,  and  endeavours  to  determine  its  characteristic 
features  in  three  distinct  spheres:  (i)  In  the  proc- 
esses of  sense  perception;  (2)  in  the  processes  of  re- 
lating our  various  perceptions  one  to  another,  in 
such  a  way  as  to  develop  a  systematic  body  of  judg- 
ments, and  (3)  in  the  more  complex  processes  of 
inference.  According  to  a  natural  division  of  our 
mental  powers,  these  three  phases  of  our  thought 
activity  find  their  proper  scope  in  the  three  faculties, 
respectively,  (i)  of  the  sensibility;  (2)  of  the  under- 
standing, and  (3)  of  the  reason.  And  Kant  treats 
the  various  problems  which  arise  in  these  several 
spheres  in  the  three  main  divisions  of  the  Critique: 

1.  The  Transcendental  Esthetic. 

2.  The  Transcendental  Analytic. 

3.  The  Transcendental  Dialectic. 

These  three  spheres  of  thought  cannot  be  kept 
rigorously  and  consistently  separated,  and  Kant  him- 
self does  not  succeed  in  doing  it,  for  their  essen- 
tially co-operative  functions  do  not  admit  of  it.  For 
the  purpose  of  Kant's  discussion,  however,  and  as 
outlining  in  a  broad,  general  way  the  characteris- 
tic features  of  the  play  of  thought  in  these  several 
spheres,  it  is  a  satisfactory  and  adequate  division  of 
his   subject.     These  three   spheres  of  thought  pre- 


232  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

sent  different  philosophical  problems,  each  after  its 
own  nature;  but  in  all  there  is  a  common  point  of 
view,  namely,  that  of  the  transcendental  way  of  view- 
ing things.  The  transcendental  method,  however 
variously  it  may  be  applied,  always  sets  itself  the 
one  task  of  determining  those  necessary  and  universal 
elements  in  our  thinking  which  possess  synthetic 
significance  and  can  be  traced  to  an  a  priori  origin. 
As  these  transcendental  elements  discover  them- 
selves in  the  sphere  of  the  sensibility,  of  the  under- 
standing, and  of  the  reason,  they  form  the  basis  for 
those  detailed  systems  of  knowledge  which  we  have 
come  to  recognise  under  the  familiar  names  of: 

1.  Pure  Mathematics. 

2.  Pure  Natural  Science. 

3.  Metaphysics. 

By  pure  in  this  connection,  as  well  as  in  the  title 
of  his  work,  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason^  Kant  refers 
to  that  peculiar  kind  of  knowledge  which  is  given  by 
the  immediate  processes  of  thought  in  a  wholly  a 
priori  manner,  that  is,  whatever  is  discovered  to  be 
universal  and  necessary.  Kant  therefore  puts  to 
himself  the  following  question:  In  the  sphere  of 
sense  perception,  what  elements  are  in  all  the  sensory 
processes  and  yet  are  not  qualities  of  any  particular 
objects  of  perception  themselves,  but  are  recognised 
directly  as  indispensable  and  necessary  in  the  per- 
ception of  all  objects  whatsoever,  and  consequently 
possess  an  a  priori  and  not  an  empirical  origin } 
Kant's  answer  to  this  question  is  that  there  are  two 
such  elements,  namely,  space  and  time. 

In  all  knowledge  which  comes  to  us  through  the 
senses  there  are  two  distinct  kinds  of  elements,  a 
variable  and  a  constant.  The  variable  elements  are 
the  different  qualities  of  the  particular  objects  which 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  233 

appear  in  the  field  of  sense  perception.  Every  ob- 
ject has  its  own  peculiar  qualities  which  determine 
it,  and  differentiate  it  from  all  others.  But  all  ob- 
jects, however  they  may  differ  among  themselves, 
present  certain  constant  elements.  They  all  appear 
in  space,  and  their  appearance  is  connected  with 
some  point  or  period  of  time.  These  two  elements 
of  space  and  of  time,  the  one  observed  by  the  outer 
sense  and  the  other  by  the  inner  sense,  Kant  calls 
the  common  forms  in  which  all  objects  of  sense 
perception  show  themselves  in  experience.  Now  the 
very  fact  that  they  are  constant  forms,  invariable  and 
indispensable  in  all  experience,  is  an  indication  to 
Kant  that  they  have  their  origin  in  the  very  nature 
of  thought  itself,  and  are  therefore  strictly  a  priori 
forms  of  the  mind,  according  to  which  the  mind 
arranges  and  orders  the  crude  materials  mediated 
by  the  senses. 

If  the  ideas  of  space  and  time  had  been  derived 
from  the  nature  of  the  objects  perceived  and  not  from 
the  nature  of  the  perceiving  mind,  then  the  character- 
istic features  of  space  and  time  would  appear  to  be 
indefinitely  variable  and  consequently  uncertain;  but 
they  are,  on  the  contrary,  constant  and  certain.  Any 
object  of  knowledge  we  can  think  away  from  any 
given  time  or  space,  but  time  and  space  themselves 
resist  the  utmost  efforts  of  fancy  to  efface  them 
from  any  possible  sense  experience  which  we  are  able 
to  conceive.  All  experience  is  conditioned  by  them, 
but  no  experience  can  alter  their  fundamental  char- 
acteristics in  the  least  particular. 

Moreover,  there  is  but  one  space  and  one  time. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  individual  space  which 
differs  from  another  individual  space,  of  which 
the  idea  of  space  in  general  is  the  universal  con- 


234  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

cept.  The  understanding  does  not  derive  the 
concept  of  space  as  it  does  its  other  concepts  which 
are  born  of  experience,  and  which  are  therefore 
merely  the  generahsation  of  a  number  of  particular 
instances.  Space  may  be  divided  into  a  number  of 
parts,  but  not  into  a  group  of  particulars.  The  va- 
rious parts  of  space  show  no  qualitative  differences. 
Space  is  perfectly  homogeneous  throughout  and  is 
without  limit  in  extent.  The  same  is  true  of  time. 
These  ideas  are  unique.  They  are  unlike  all  other 
ideas  which  result  from  the  inductive  generalisations 
of  experience.  And,  therefore,  we  must  trace  them 
t«.  some  other  source,  which  Kant  declares  must  be 
in  the  very  nature  of  thought  itself. 

To  picture  objects  of  sense  in  a  world  free  from  all 
space  and  time  limitations,  or  in  a  world  with  essen- 
tially different  space  and  time  conditions,  is  a  task 
which  even  the  wildest  flight  of  the  imagination  would 
essay  in  vain.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  conceive  of 
the  world,  as  we  know  it,  under  the  conditions  of 
four  dimensions,  or  of  history  as  subject  to  a  rever- 
sible time  process.  Our  sensible  experiences  must  as- 
sume the  forms  of  space  and  time  as  they  inevitably 
force  themselves  upon  our  thought. 

In  pure  geometry,  therefore,  there  is  not  merely  a 
formal  process  of  unfolding  the  truth  implied  in  a 
body  of  analytical  judgments,  that  is,  where  the  predi- 
cate is  obviously  suggested  by  the  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject. The  truths  of  geometry  rest  upon  a  number  of 
synthetical  judgments  which  are  given  by  the  direct 
intuition  of  the  nature  of  space.  Space  being  what  it 
is,  the  tridimensional  geometry  results.  The  neces- 
sary connections  and  relations  which  it  presents  are 
not  subject  to  the  variations  of  experience  for  the  very 
reason  that  they  are  not  the  result  of  experience,  but 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  235 

do  themselves  condition  experience.  No  experience 
can  possibly  occur  which  will  swing  clear  of  their 
limiting  conditions.  Given  the  kind  of  space  rela- 
tions which  our  minds  of  necessity  impose  upon  all  of 
our  experiences  uniformly,  it  must  follow  that  the 
straight  line  is  the  shortest  distance  between  two 
points,  and  that  the  sum  of  the  angles  of  a  plane  tri- 
angle will  always  equal  two  right  angles.  If  we  were 
compelled  to  construct  our  experiences  under  other 
space  conditions,  as,  for  instance,  upon  spherical 
surfaces,  or  within  a  world  of  four  dimensions,  these 
propositions  would  not  then  be  valid.  Every  object, 
therefore,  in  the  world  of  sense  must  correspond 
strictly  with  the  theorems  of  geometry,  because  they 
depend  upon  necessary  and  universal  space  condi- 
tions, and  these  space  conditions  in  turn  rest  ulti- 
mately upon  the  nature  of  the  mind  which  conceives 
them. 

Upon  this  theory  of  Kant's  the  ideality  of  space 
and  time  is  a  necessary  implication.  These  forms, 
to  which  all  experience  must  inexorably  conform, 
have  then  a  reality  essentially  subjective.  All  ob- 
jects which  move  into  our  ken,  the  mind  invests 
with  the  characteristic  features  of  space  and  time. 
If  any  objects  should  show  themselves  under  any 
other  possible  conditions,  they  could  find  no  place 
in  consciousness.  While  space  and  time  are  sub- 
jective conditions  imposed  upon  experience,  they 
are,  nevertheless,  real;  as  real  as  the  objects  them- 
selves which  appear  in  consciousness.  What  may 
be  behind  the  series  of  appearances  which  consti- 
tute experience  and  what  may  be  the  real  nature 
of  things  in  themselves  is  another  question.  This, 
at  least,  can  be  said,  that  whatever  reality  the  ap- 
pearances of  objects  in    consciousness  may  possess, 


236  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

the  same  reality  attaches  to  the  ideas  of  space  and 
time,  which  are  the  necessary  presuppositions  of  the 
possibility  of  such  appearances. 

Kant  next  proceeds  from  the  world  of  sensibility 
and  its  space  and  time  construction  to  the  world  as 
interpreted  by  our  body  of  systematic  judgments,  the 
world  which  our  understanding  builds  up  out  of  the 
materials  given  in  sense- perception.  This  world  of 
the  phenomena  of  nature  as  the  mind  comes  to  know 
it  is  a  world  whose  various  parts  appear  as  neces- 
sarily connected  in  an  orderly  and  coherent  manner. 
The  idea  of  causation,  as  we  have  seen,  is  the  central 
idea  according  to  which  the  various  phenomena  of 
our  experience  become  arranged  in  a  system  of  logical 
sequence  and  coexistence. 

There  are,  moreover,  other  a  priori  ideas  which  are 
intimately  associated  with  the  idea  of  causation,  and 
which  subserve  a  similar  function,  that  of  organising 
our  knowledge  along  certain  fixed  and  determinate 
lines.  These  a  priori  concepts  which  show  this  es- 
sentially synthetic  or  constructive  function,  are  the 
Kantian  categories  of  the  understanding.  The  table 
of  categories  is  formed  by  Kant  according  to  the 
general  nature  of  the  various  types  of  judgment,  on 
the  ground  that  every  distinct  variety  of  judgment 
form  represents  a  distinct  function  of  the  understand- 
ing. The  table  thus  constructed  is  as  follows  (the 
corresponding  judgment  types  being  placed  in  paren- 
theses throughout): 

TABLE  OF  THE  CATEGORIES 

L    Quantity — 

(i)  Unity  (Universal) 

(2)  Plurality  (Particular) 

(3)  Totality  (Singular) 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  237 

n.    Quality — 

(i)  Reality  (Affirmative) 

(2)  Negation  (Negative) 

(3)  Limitation  (Infinite) 

III.  Relation — 

(i)  Substance  and  Accident  (Categorical) 

(2)  Cause  and  Effect  (Hypothetical) 

(3)  The   Reciprocity  of  Action   and    Reaction 

(Disjunctive) 

IV.  Modality — 

(i)  Possibility — Impossibility  (Problematical) 

(2)  Existence — Non-Existence  (Assertory) 

(3)  Necessity — Contingency  (Apodictic) 


The  co-ordination  of  the  categories  with  the  various 
forms  of  judgment  is  somew^hat  of  a  tour  de  force  on 
Kant's  part,  and  yet  w^e  must  not  fall  into  the  error 
of  overlooking  the  significance  of  the  table  of  cate- 
gories as  a  whole  on  account  of  the  obviously  arti- 
ficial and  strained  character  of  certain  parts.  The 
categories  of  substance  and  of  causation  bear  the 
main  weight  of  his  argument.  Together  with  the 
forms  of  space  and  time,  they  determine,  in  broad 
lines  at  least,  the  kind  of  experience  which  our  minds 
are  capable  of  apprehending.  To  the  rationaUst 
Kant  would  say.  You  cannot  build  up  a  world  of 
ideas  which  is  independent  of  experience.  And  at  the 
same  time  he  would  turn  to  the  empiricist  and  would 
say  quite  as  emphatically,  But  your  experience  can- 
not become  an  object  of  knowledge  to  the  mind  at 
all  unless  it  fulfils  the  requirements  of  space,  time 
and  causation,  which  are  the  conditions  imposed  by 
the  inherent  nature  of  thought  itself.  It  is  this 
thought  which  is  expressed  in  Kant's  notable  dictum; 


238  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

"Gedanken  ohne  Inhalt  sind  leer,  Anschauungen 
ohne  Begriffe  sind  bhnd.*'  * 

Kant  in  this  same  context  insists  that  the  under- 
standing lacks  wholly  the  function  of  perception; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  quite  as  true  that  the 
senses  are  wholly  incapable  of  the  constructive  func- 
tion of  thinking.  The  two  processes,  therefore,  must 
be  regarded  as  complementary.  One  supplies  the 
material  and  the  other  the  form  of  our  thought. 
However,  the  material  furnished  by  the  senses  to  the 
understanding  is  not  unformed  material;  for  already 
in  this  preliminary  process  the  informing  activity  of 
thought  has  subjected  the  mass  of  sensory  elements  to 
the  conditions  of  space  and  time.  Even  in  the  simplest 
perception  itself  the  categories  of  the  understanding 
begin  to  function  at  least  in  an  incipient  manner. 

The  world,  therefore,  as  it  appears  to  us,  that 
is,  to  thinking  beings,  must  be  made  up  of  objects 
which  appear  in  space  and  in  time,  and  which  sus- 
tain orderly  and  coherent  relations  one  to  another. 
But  is  the  world  as  it  appears,  the  world  as  it  really 
is  ?  This  question,  Kant  maintains,  the  mind  on  ac- 
count of  its  essential  nature  can  never  answer.  Our 
thoughts  can  only  become  cognisant  of  the  world 
which  experience  presents  in  our  consciousness,  and 
experience  can  only  discover  to  us  things  as  they 
appear  to  be,  that  is,  mere  phenomena.  What  they 
may  be  really  in  themselves,  the  noumena,  our 
thought  is  not  capable  of  apprehending. 

The  phenomena  of  experience  are  all  mind  con- 
ditioned. And  it  is  in  this  sense  that  a  pure  science 
of  nature  is  possible.  Whatever  the  particular  phe- 
nomena of  nature  may  be  they  must  all  conform  to 
certain  universal  laws  of  cause  and  effect,  substance 

'  K.  d.  r.  V.  Adickes,  p.  loo. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  239 

and  attribute,  and  other  categorical  conditions,  which 
the  character  of  the  mind  itself  imposes.  What  may 
be  behind  nature  as  its  ultimate  ground,  thought  can 
never  explore.  The  thing  as  it  really  is,  in  contrast 
to  the  form  which  it  must  necessarily  assume  in  order 
that  it  may  appear  in  consciousness  at  all,  the  Ding- 
an-sich  of  the  Kantian  terminology, — that  can  never 
become  a  proper  object  of  our  investigation;  be- 
cause, to  become  an  object  of  knowledge,  it  must 
comply  with  the  time,  space  and  causal  necessities 
which  are  the  inevitable  conditions  of  any  possible 
experience  whatsoever. 

There  is,  indeed,  as  Kant  himself  claimed,  some- 
thing completely  revolutionary  in  an  idea  so  bold  and 
original  as  this.  There  is  a  Copernican  audacity 
about  this  adventurous  thinker  who  would  place 
mind  in  the  centre  of  the  world  of  experience,  and 
would  thus  determine  nature  by  mind  rather  than 
mind  by  nature.  Nature  can  reveal  herself  to  mind 
only  upon  the  conditions  and  after  the  manner  pre- 
scribed by  the  mind  itself.  Every  object  of  knowl- 
edge is  naturally  viewed  according  to  the  mind's 
interpretation  of  it;  and  the  mind's  interpretation  of 
it  must  always  be  in  accordance  with  the  funda- 
mental and  unvarying  principles  which  have  their 
source  in  the  activities  of  the  understanding  as  an 
organ  of  knowledge.  Kant's  whole  argument  turns 
upon  his  conception  of  the  nature  of  mind,  which 
may  be  briefly  summarised  in  a  sentence:  the  sensory 
material  is  not  transmitted  to  the  mind,  but  passes 
through  a  process  oi  transmutation  due  to  the  activity 
of  thought;  also  the  mind  never  pictures  its  objects 
of  knowledge,  but  interprets  them  according  to  the 
suggestions  of  its  own  nature  and  the  determination 
of  its  own  laws. 


240  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

If,  therefore,  we  allow  that  all  experience  is  lim- 
ited to  things  as  they  must  appear  in  order  that  thought 
can  apprehend  them,  there  is  still  a  further  question 
which  insistently  presses  upon  us.  Is  it  not  possible 
that  our  thought  in  some  preternatural  manner  can 
transcend  the  ordinary  modes  of  experience  so  as  to 
attain  a  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  things  as  they  are 
in  themselves  ?  This  is  the  problem  of  the  possibility 
of  a  metaphysic.  Kant  maintains  that  the  traditional 
speculations  of  metaphysics  have  all  been  based  upon 
mere  conjecture  as  to  the  probability  of  the  truth  of 
certain  ideas,  and  are  therefore  wholly  unsatisfac- 
tory; or  else  they  have  appealed  to  common  sense, 
which  is  absurd,  because  this  appeal  to  common 
sense  is  essentially  a  demand  for  the  presentation 
of  some  concrete  example  in  experience,  and  this 
procedure  upon  the  face  of  it  can  throw  no  light 
upon  the  possibility  of  acquiring  knowledge  of 
something  which,  by  its  very  nature,  transcends  all 
experience. 

Kant,  therefore,  seeks  to  examine  the  higher  proc- 
esses of  the  reason  in  order  to  determine  whether  it 
may  not  be  possible  to  discover  some  intimation,  at 
least,  concerning  the  ultimate  nature  of  things  in 
themselves.  This  is  the  problem  of  the  Dialectic  of 
Pure  Reason.  The  reason  {die  Vernunfi),  according 
to  Kant,  is  a  higher  function  of  the  mind  than  the 
understanding  (der  Fer stand).  The  understanding 
is  always  occupied  with  objects  of  knowledge  which 
are  given  in  experience,  relating  them,  connecting 
them,  discriminating  between  them,  referring  par- 
ticulars to  their  appropriate  universals  and  forming 
universals  out  of  a  mass  of  particulars.  Reason,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  that  phase  of  the  mind's  activity 
which  is  concerned  solely  with  the  inquiry  as  to  its 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  241 

own  nature.  Kant  defines  metaphysics  as  "the 
occupation  of  reason  with  itself,"  ^ 

The  reason  does  not  exercise  its  activity  by  means 
of  the  categories,  as  is  the  case  of  the  understanding; 
it  contains  within  itself  the  source  of  certain  Ideas^ 
which  are  inherent  in  the  nature  of  reason,  and  which 
cannot  be  given  through  the  ordinary  channels  of 
experience.  They  do  not  come  by  observation  but 
by  contemplation. 

Kant  regards  the  processes  of  reason  as  essentially 
syllogistic,  and  therefore  he  finds  in  the  three  typical 
forms  of  syllogistic  procedure,  the  categorical,  the 
hypothetical  and  the  disjunctive,  the  three  corre- 
sponding Ideas  of  the  pure  reason: 

1.  The  Psychological  Idea — that  of  the  Self. 

2.  The  Cosmological  Idea — that  of  the  World. 

3.  The  Theological  Idea — that  of  God. 

Here  again,  as  in  the  case  of  the  categories  and  the 
typical  forms  of  judgment,  the  correspondence  of 
the  Ideas  of  the  pure  reason  to  the  three  logical  proc- 
esses of  the  syllogism  is  artificial  and  strained.  How- 
ever, allowing  for  this  in  our  minds,  it  is  possible  to 
see  that  the  very  nature  of  the  syllogistic  procedure 
itself  might  naturally  suggest  these  metaphysical 
Ideas,  of  God,  of  self  and  the  world.  For  it  is  of  the 
essence  of  the  syllogistic  process  to  refer  particular 
cases  to  the  universal  which  comprehends  and  ac- 
counts for  them,  or  to  refer  a  more  specific  concept  to 
a  more  generic  one  as  its  proper  explanation  and  war- 
rant in  a  coherent  system  of  knowledge.  This  is  an 
indication  of  a  natural  compulsion  of  the  mind  to  re- 
quire for  its  own  satisfaction  that  its  knowledge  should 
be  capable  of  unification  and  systemisation.  Thought 
is  always  impatient  of  any  process  of  reasoning  which 

*  Prolegomena,  p.  90. 


242  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

stops  short  of  some  complete,  central  and  all-compre- 
hensive idea.  We  are  not  content  to  refer  one  state 
of  consciousness  to  another  as  its  proximate  explana- 
tion, and  so  ground  one  experience  in  another.  The 
mind  constrains  us  to  seek  a  common  ground  for  all 
phenomena  whatsoever  which  may  occur  in  conscious- 
ness, and  this  common  ground  is  found  in  the  cen- 
tral self,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  absolute  sub- 
ject of  all  of  our  various  experiences.  This  idea  of 
self  seems,  moreover,  to  satisfy  the  supreme  test  of 
an  absolute  substance,  namely,  as  that  which  is  to  be 
regarded  always  as  a  subject,  and  never  as  a  predicate 
of  some  other  subject.  This,  it  will  be  remembered, 
is  Leibniz's  definition  of  a  true  substance,  and  Kant 
avails  himself  of  it  in  this  phase  of  his  general  dis- 
cussion. 

As  all  states  of  consciousness  seem  to  find  a  com- 
plete unification  in  the  central  self,  so  also  all  the 
various  objects  of  knowledge  seem  to  require  a  like 
grounding  in  some  underlying  system  of  order  and  of 
law  to  which  they  may  all  be  referred.  This  idea  of 
a  comprehensive  world  system  is  a  conception  which 
is  so  much  more  profound  and  ultimate  than  any 
group  of  actual  experiences  could  ever  adequately 
illustrate  that  it  merits  the  designation  which  Kant 
gives  to  it  of  a  transcendental  Idea  of  the  reason. 

Profound  and  comprehensive  as  the  idea  of  a  per- 
fect world  system  may  be,  it  is  not  adequate,  how- 
ever, as  a  finial  idea  in  which  the  thought  can  rest 
satisfied.  The  same  urgency  of  the  mind  toward 
some  higher  centre  of  unification  constrains  the 
thought  to  refer  both  the  self  and  the  world  to  some 
all-comprehensive  idea  which  is  the  adequate  ground 
of  them  both,  and  this  Kant  finds  in  the  transcen- 
dental Idea  of  God. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  243 

These  Ideas  of  the  pure  reason^  however,  do  not 
possess  that  ultimate  character  which  seems  at  first 
to  belong  to  them  by  virtue  of  the  native  necessities 
of  thought.  While  these  Ideas  seem  to  penetrate  to  a 
lower  depth  than  any  mass  of  cumulative  experience, 
however  extensive,  is  able  to  disclose,  nevertheless, 
upon  a  more  critical  analysis,  it  is  seen  that  there  is 
involved  in  them  all  a  fundamental  illusion,  and  that 
this  is  due  to  the  very  nature  of  the  reasoning  process 
itself.  There  is  a  tendency  in  the  very  momentum 
which  thought  in  its  activity  acquires,  of  carrying  the 
reason  beyond  its  own  boundaries.  This  is  the  ten- 
dency particularly  of  assuming  that  what  proves  itself 
to  be  valid  of  phenomena  must  also  be  true  concern- 
ing things  in  themselves.  What  is  gained  through  the 
offices  of  experience  is  not  necessarily  applicable  in  a 
region  which  experience  cannot  penetrate.  Thus 
reason  gives  us  the  Idea  of  the  central  self,  but  it  is, 
after  all,  merely  the  self  as  circumstanced  and  condi- 
tioned by  the  experiences  in  which  it  finds  its  sole 
sphere  of  manifestation.  So  far  as  the  self  is  an 
object  of  consciousness  it  is  empirically  related  and 
connected,  and  so  far  as  it  is  not  empirically  related 
and  connected  it  ceases  to  be  a  proper  object  of 
knowledge.  We  can  never  get  the  self  out  of  its 
setting,  which  was  Hume's  contention.  We  have 
come  to  know  self  in  its  setting,  and  to  abstract  it 
from  the  states  of  consciousness  with  which  it  is 
essentially  bound  up  is  to  do  violence  to  the  in- 
tegrity of  thought.  Reason  may  discover  intima- 
tions of  the  permanent  character  of  the  inner  self, 
of  a  continuous  personal  identity,  and  yet  this  perma- 
nence is  assured  only  within  the  bounds  of  experience. 
The  self  has  a  history  which  indicates  an  individual 
personality  amidst  the  shifting  scenes  of  life  and  the 


244  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

successive  states  of  consciousness,  but  only  within  that 
stretch  of  experience  which  Hes  within  the  confines 
of  birth  and  of  death.  Kant  draws  attention  to  the 
fact  that  the  complex  and  varying  experiences  of 
life  are  the  condition  of  our  unitary  self-conscious- 
ness, and  that  therefore  we  have  no  warrant  for  the 
inference  that  the  self  will  survive  the  cessation  of 
our  sense  experience.  Any  metaphysical  speculation, 
consequently,  concerning  the  immortality  of  the  soul 
is  altogether  illusory. 

The  cosmological  Idea,  moreover,  involves  a  like 
contradiction  and  confusion  of  thought.  Specula- 
tion concerning  the  nature  of  the  world  tends  to  land 
itself  in  certain  inevitable  Antinomies ;  the  thesis 
and  antithesis  of  the  Antinomies  are  each  seemingly 
capable  of  conclusive  proof,  and  yet  the  one  con- 
tradicts the  other.  The  Kantian  Antinomies  are  as 
follows : 

I.     Thesis:    The  World  has,  as  to  Time  and  Space,  a 
Beginning  (Bounds). 
Antithesis:     The  World  is,  as  to  Time  and  Space, 
infinite. 
n.     Thesis:     Everything  in  the  World  consists  of  simple 
part. 
Antithesis:     There   is   nothing   simple,    but   every- 
thing is  composite. 
HI.     Thesis:     There    are    in    the   World    causes    acting 
through  Freedom. 
Antithesis:     There  is  no  liberty,  but  all  is  Nature. 
IV.     Thesis:     In  the  series  of  World  Causes  there  is  some 
necessary  Being. 
Antithesis:     There    is    nothing    necessary    in    the 
World,  but  in  this  series  all  is  contingent. 

The  first  and  second  antinomies,  which  Kant  calls 
the  mathematical  antinomies,  are  regarded  by  him  as 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  245 

based  upon  an  original  concept  which  is  self-contra- 
dictory. Consequently  the  two  opposed  statements 
which  reason  may  derive  from  such  a  concept  must 
both  be  false.  In  the  first  Antinomy  the  self-contra- 
dictory concept  which  thus  seems  to  give  rise  to  the 
two  contradictory  theses,  each  equally  defensible,  is 
the  following:  Objects  appearing  in  space  and  time, 
after  the  manner  which  our  mind  is  constrained  to 
think  them,  have  also  a  self-subsisting  existence  be- 
yond and  apart  from  the  thought  which  expresses 
them.  This  is  an  unwarrantable  inference,  for 
things  in  themselves  may  be  wholly  independent  of 
time  and  space  conditions.  In  the  second  Antinomy 
there  is  a  like  confusion  of  the  world  of  experience, 
and  the  world  which  is  conceived  as  lying  beyond 
experience.  The  division  of  phenomena  into  parts 
is  a  process  which  falls  wholly  within  experience,  and 
the  possibility  of  a  similar  process  beyond  experience 
or  prior  to  experience  is  wholly  gratuitous.  The  first 
and  second  antinomies  therefore  must  be  regarded 
as  presenting  contradictory  statements,  both  of 
which,  however,  are  false.  In  the  third  and  fourth 
antinomies,  which  Kant  calls  dynamical,  the  two 
seemingly  opposed  conclusions  must  both  be  re- 
garded as  true.  There  may  be  a  complete  deter- 
minism as  regards  things  as  they  appear  in  nature, 
but  at  the  same  time  a  complete  liberty  as  regards 
things  in  themselves.  So  also  within  the  natural 
series  everything  is  contingent,  but  there  is  still  a 
possibility  of  a  necessary  Being  behind  and  under- 
lying the  entire  series  itself.  Therefore  freedom  and 
natural  law  are  not  necessarily  incompatible.  Each 
has  its  own  sphere,  and  each  must  be  regarded  from 
its  own  distinctive  point  of  view.  A  resolution  of  their 
surface  contradiction  is  thus  possible.     The  theologi- 


246  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

cal  Idea  does  not  receive  its  warrant  as  the  other  ideas 
we  have  just  considered  by  merely  enlarging  the 
bounds  of  experience,  but  rather  by  swinging  clear 
of  experience  altogether;  the  reason,  in  order  that 
it  may  comprehend  more  adequately  the  connection, 
unity  and  order  of  experience,  feels  compelled  to 
form  the  idea  of  a  most  perfect  primal  Being  as  the 
ground  of  all  other  beings  and  as  the  warrant  of  all 
knowledge.  The  fundamental  fallacy  here,  as  Kant 
shows,  is  the  gratuitous  assumption  that  we  can 
make  the  subjective  conditions  of  our  thinking  the 
objective  conditions  of  things  as  they  are  in  them- 
selves. God  in  the  mind  is  not  necessarily  God  in 
the  world.  It  is  in  this  connection  that  the  impos- 
sibility of  a  pure  metaphysic  is  most  conclusively 
shown. 

Is  there  then  no  function  which  these  Ideas  of 
reason  may  perform  I  In  answering  this  question 
Kant  draws  the  distinction  between  the  constitutive 
and  the  regulative  use  of  Ideas,  such  as  these,  in 
building  up  our  world  of  knowledge.  He  maintains 
that  although  these  Ideas  do  not  enable  us  to  con- 
stitute a  new  world  which  transcends  the  actual 
world  of  experience,  and  thus  forms  the  ultimate 
ground  and  explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  life; 
nevertheless  they  do  possess  a  certain  regulative 
function,  in  that  they  furnish  a  norm  or  standard 
to  which  the  organising  processes  of  the  understand- 
ing are  compelled  to  conform.  They  place  a  com- 
pulsion upon  thought  to  view  its  experiences  not  as 
scattered  fragments  of  fleeting  impressions,  but  as 
constituting  a  world  of  knowledge  which  shall  be 
a  world  of  unity,  order  and  system,  even  though  it 
be  only  a  world  of  mere  appearance.  Moreover, 
these  Ideas  of  reason  stand  as  a  perpetual  protest 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  247 

against  certain  philosophical  attitudes  which  arise 
from  a  superficial  and  unreflecting  observation  of  the 
experiences  of  life.  The  Idea  of  a  central  self  within 
the  stream  of  consciousness,  wholly  irrespective  of  its 
possible  destiny  beyond,  cannot  be  accounted  for 
adequately  by  the  doctrines  of  materialism  which 
would  eliminate  the  soul  from  this  world  as  well  as 
from  the  world  to  come. 

The  cosmological  Idea  of  a  world  system  of  order, 
coherence  and  unity  indicates  at  least  the  unsatis- 
factory character  of  all  the  argument  of  naturalism 
which  assert  that  nature  is  sufficient  for  itself. 
Moreover,  all  natural  necessity  in  the  sensible  world 
refers  one  phenomenon  to  another,  and  so  on  indefi- 
nitely, and  in  this  circle  of  explanation  it  is  impos- 
sible to  satisfy  the  higher  demands  of  reason,  which 
insist  that  unconditional  necessity  must  be  sought  for 
in  the  unity  of  some  kind  of  a  cause  essentially  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  chain  of  sensible  phenomena. 
Consequently  the  theological  Idea  serves  to  free  the 
reason  from  any  form  of  fatalism.  "Thus  the  tran- 
scendental Ideas,"  Kant  declares,  "serve,  if  not  to 
instruct  us  positively,  at  least  to  destroy  the  rash  as- 
sertions of  Materialism^  of  Naturalism,  and  of 
Fatalism,  and  thus  to  afford  scope  for  the  moral 
Ideas  beyond  the  field  of  speculation."  ^ 

Through  these  negative  offices  of  reason  the 
way  is  cleared,  therefore,  for  the  consideration  of 
those  moral  ideas  which  operate  in  a  sphere  wholly 
free  from  the  limitations  imposed  upon  the  purely 
knowing  processes  of  the  mind.  This  account  of 
the  wider  scope  of  our  moral  ideas  contained  in  the 
Kritik  der  practischen  Vernunft  must  not  be  re- 
garded as  an  after-thought,  on  Kant's  part,  by  which 

•  Prolegomena^  p.  133. 


248  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

he  seeks  to  regain  through  the  compulsion  of  the 
moral  sense  all  that  had  been  destroyed  through  his 
criticism  of  the  pure  reason.  It  must  be  remem- 
bered that  the  task  of  the  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft 
is  to  establish  the  well-defined  limits  of  our  experience 
of  the  world  of  nature,  and  by  so  doing  to  demon- 
strate that  there  are  certain  ideas  which  can  never 
be  expressed  in  terms  of  natural  phenomena  or  ex- 
plained by  the  nature  of  such  phenomena^  but  which 
have  a  significance  transcending  the  conditions  and 
circumstances  of  the  time  and  space  series  of  natu- 
ral events.  Kant  regards  the  Critique  of  Practical 
Reason  as  establishing  these  ideas  of  the  moral  sense 
upon  a  higher  plane;  and  its  offices  begin  at  the  point 
where  those  of  the  pure  reason  end.  The  nature  of  \ 
the  will  in  the  conduct  of  life  reveals  a  depth  of,' 
reality  which  the  mind  in  its  purely  intellectual 
functions  is  incapable  of  sounding.  While  all  objects 
of  sense  experience  are  conditioned  by  the  limitations 
of  the  phenomenal  world,  the  acting  subject,  in  its 
self-determining  and  self-directing  powers  within  a 
world  of  moral  law  and  responsibility,  rises  above  the 
conditions  and  limitations  of  the  world  of  nature. 
Man  is  something  more  than  a  thing  among  things 
which  are  inevitably  determined  by  the  play  of  the 
cosmic  forces. 

Man  is  more  than  a  mere  phenomenon;  as  a 
moral  agent  acting  in  the  midst  of  his  various  states 
of  consciousness,  he  manifests  a  certain  noumenal 
aspect.  I  find  myself  under  constraint  to  act  as 
though  I  were  free  and  possessed  a  power  of  initia- 
tive. In  this  consciousness  my  whole  being  resents 
any  attempt  to  reduce  my  self-asserting  person- 
ality to  the  level  of  the  forces  of  nature  which  it 
consciously     directs     and     commands.     It    belongs 


PHILOSOPHY  OF   KANT  249 

to  a  higher  order  and  fulfils  a  higher  purpose. 
Man's  moral  and  religious  consciousness  can  never 
be  explained  by  science,  for  it  belongs  to  a  sphere 
which  lies  beyond  the  province  of  natural  science, 
and  w^hich  the  principles  and  methods  of  natural 
science  can  never  penetrate.  The  ideas  of  God, 
freedom  and  immortality  which  Kant  maintains 
are  the  inevitable  postulates  of  moral  responsi- 
bility and  endeavour,  are  inviolable,  therefore,  as 
regards  any  possible  attempt  to  explain  them  away 
by  reducing  them  to  a  purely  naturalistic  basis. 
.While  science  cannot  justify  the  ideas  of  our  religi- 
ous and  moral  consciousness;  no  more  can  science 
disprove  them.  Their  higher  warrant,  therefore,  is 
secure,  because  it  is  forever  freed  from  any  criticism 
which  a  sceptical  empiricism  may  chance  to  offer. 

We  are  conscious,  however,  of  a  certain  dualism 
of  the  theoretical  and  the  practical  reason  in  Kant's 
treatment.  The  two  spheres,  which  seem  at  times 
to  be  wholly  separate  and  distinct,  Kant  endeavours 
to  unite  through  the  mediating  offices  of  the  aesthetic 
judgment.  In  his  Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft  he  com- 
pletes his  systematic  discussion  by  an  analysis  of  the 
essential  nature  and  functions  of  the  judgments  which 
deal  with  our  sense  of  evaluation  and  appreciation. 
In  the  aesthetic  judgment  there  is  an  unique  combina- 
tion of  the  subjective  and  objective  elements  of  con- 
sciousness. When  we  assert  that  any  object  in  na- 
ture or  of  art  is  beautiful,  the  idea  of  beauty  is  in  no 
sense  conditioned  by  objective  necessities,  for  it  is  es- 
sentially a  subjective  feeling.  However,  it  is  a  sub- 
jective feeling  which  is  peculiar  in  this  respect,  that 
it  is  free  from  the  particular  colouring  of  the  personal 
nature  and  character  of  the  individual  who  may  en- 
tertain the  notion  of  the  beautiful.     True  beauty  has 


250  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

an  impersonal  and  universal  strain  which  it  compels 
us  to  acknowledge.  In  an  object  of  beauty,  there- 
fore, there  is  a  concrete  embodiment  of  the  universal. 
The  universal,  as  it  were,  shines  through  this  phe- 
nomenal representation,  and  thus  gives  us  an  inti- 
mation of  the  nature  of  things  as  they  are.  In  other 
words,  the  essence  of  beauty  is  not  in  the  phenome- 
nal appearance  merely,  but  lies  at  the  heart  of  the 
object  as  the  secret  of  its  reality. 

The  aesthetic  judgment,  moreover,  expresses  pur- 
pose as  well  as  beauty.  In  the  various  organisms  of 
nature  Kant  is  impressed  with  the  marvellous  adapta- 
tions which  subserve  their  appropriate  ends — an 
internal  teleology.  And  this  suggests  to  him  the  fol- 
lowing antinomy:  Experience  knows  only  mechan- 
ical causes;  but  organisms  of  plant  and  animal  life 
exhibit  a  mode  of  interconnection  of  parts  and  adap- 
tation to  the  ends  of  the  whole  which  cannot  be  sat- 
isfactorily explained  by  mechanical  causes.  Kant's 
solution  of  this  difficulty  is  that  the  teleological  in- 
terpretation of  nature  gives  us  an  intimation  of  a 
power  working  through  phenomena  to  produce  defi- 
nite ends,  which  may  be  regarded  possibly  as  one 
phase,  at  least,  of  the  activity  of  the  true  noumenal 
reality,  and  therefore  fairly  representing  a  funda- 
mental characteristic  of  the  nature  of  things  as  they 
are  in  themselves.  Such  a  teleological  principle  as 
this  in  nature  is  capable  of  harmonising  the  mechan- 
ical causes  which  are  required  by  the  categories  of  the 
understanding  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other, 
those  processes  which  realise  certain  definite  ends, 
and  which  in  their  operation  significantly  resemble 
the  various  activities  springing  from  the  free  purposes 
of  the  practical  reason.  Thus  Kant  endeavours  to 
effect    a    synthesis    of  the  theoretical  and  practical 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT  251 

reason  through  an  analysis  of  our  aesthetic  and 
teleological  judgments,  and  thereby  bring  into  har- 
mony seemingly  opposed  and  discordant  elements. 

Whether  Kant  wholly  succeeded  in  his  ambitious 
effort  to  construct  a  self-consistent  system  out  of  the 
seemingly  disparate  elements  of  knowledge  is  a  ques- 
tion which  has  been,  and  always  will  be,  variously 
answered.  Whatever  may  be  the  final  estimate, 
however,  every  student  of  the  Kantian  philosophy 
must  concede  that  the  line  of  his  endeavour  indicates 
a  direction  of  thought,  and  a  method  of  critical 
analysis,  which  the  philosophy  of  the  Aufkldrung 
had  failed  to  discover.  That  movement  of  thought 
culminates  in  him,  for  he  conserves  in  his  philosophy 
the  elements  of  truth  which  it  had  evolved,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  overcomes  its  obvious  defects  and  limita- 
tions. To  mark  the  scope  and  function  of  experience, 
to  establish  its  complete  dependence  upon  the  inter- 
preting, informing  and  ordering  mind,  to  discover  a 
world  of  moral  law  and  life,  wherein  the  free  spirit 
of  man  moves  toward  his  determined  ends,  modify- 
ing the  mechanical  conditions  of  the  causal  series  of 
events  so  as  to  compel  them  to  obey  his  will;  to  find, 
moreover,  in  such  a  world  the  presence  of  a  divine 
compulsion,  and  to  discern  within  the  beauty  and 
purpose  of  nature  the  presence  of  a  kindred  spirit — 
such  has  been,  in  part  at  least,  the  high  office  which 
Kant  has  performed  in  presenting  to  the  philo- 
sophical thought  of  his  age,  and,  indeed,  of  all  ages 
the  truth  as  he  saw  it. 

References. — R.  Adarason:  The  Development  oj  Modern  Philos- 
ophy,   vol.  I.     Edinburgh,   1903. 

R.  Adamson:   The  Philosophy  of  Kant.    Edinburgh,  1879. 

Edward  Caird:  The  Critical  Philosophy  oj  Kant.  London  and 
New  York,  1889. 


252  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

T.  H.  Green:  Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  Kant.  Philosophical 
Works,     vol.  II.     London,   1885. 

Kuno  Fischer:  Criticism  oj  Kant.  Eng.  trans,  by  Hough.  London, 
1888. 

George  S.  Morris:  Kant's  Critique  0}  Pure  Reason.  (Grigg's  Philo- 
sophical Classics.)    Chicago,  1882. 

Friedrich  Paulsen:  Immanuel  Kant.  Stuttgart,  1898;  translation, 
New  York,  1902. 

J.  Royce:  The  Spirit  oj  Modern  Philosophy.  Part  I,  chap.  IV. 
Boston  and  New  York,  1892. 

J.H.Stirling:   Text  Book  to  Kant.     Edinburgh  and  London,  1881. 

W.  Wallace.  Kant.  {Philosophical  Classics  for  English  Readers.) 
London,  1882. 

J.  Watson:   Kant  and  His  English  Critics.     London,  1881. 

J.  Watson:  Selections  from  Kant.     New  York,  1888. 

J.  Watson;   The  Philosophy  of  Kant  Explained.     Glasgow,  1908. 

M.  H.  Calkins:  Persistent  Problems  in  Philosophy.     N.  Y.,  1907. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    PRACTICAL    INFLUENCES    OF    THE 
ENLIGHTENMENT 

We  have  been  pursuing  in  the  foregoing  chapters 
an  historical  study  of  the  theory  of  knowledge.  In 
the  theoretical  discussions  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
however,  there  necessarily  emerged  certain  problems 
which  have  an  exceedingly  practical  interest,  and 
which  exerted  an  influence  of  wide  extent  upon  the 
character  and  life,  not  only  of  the  educated  classes, 
but  also  of  the  masses.  While  the  practical  tenden- 
cies of  all  speculative  thought  inevitably  appear  in 
the  opinions  and  customs  of  a  general  public  far  re- 
moved from  their  sources,  it  is  particularly  true  of 
the  philosophy  of  the  Enlightenment,  that  its  influ- 
ences had  no  small  part  in  shaping  the  popular  point 
of  view  concerning  the  moral,  religious  and  political 
convictions  of  that  age.  And  the  reason  of  this  lies 
in  the  fact  that  this  philosophical  movement,  espe- 
cially in  France  and  Germany  where  it  culminated, 
assumed  a  form  which  made  it  intelligible  to  the 
general  reading  public.  Indeed,  it  was  the  express 
purpose  of  many  of  the  writers  of  this  period,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  to  present  their  speculative  in- 
quiries in  such  a  manner  as  to  merit  the  characterisa- 
tion of  a  "philosophy  for  the  masses." 

As  regards  these  three  practical  influences  of  the 
Enlightenment,  the  moral,  the  religious  and  political, 
the  main  tendency  of  each  may  be  comprehensively 

253 


254  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

described  as  that  of  utilitarianism,  of  deism  and  of 
individualism  respectively.  The  beginnings  of  these 
practical  influences  as  well  as  of  the  theoretical  spec- 
ulations are  to  be  found  in  the  philosophy  of  Locke. 
The  Essay  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  "Philosopher's 
Bible,"  as  Green  styled  it,  not  only  as  a  rule  of  faith 
for  the  writers  of  this  century,  but  as  a  rule  of  prac- 
tice as  well. 

Locke's  theory  of  morals  is  the  logical  outcome  of 
his  psychology  of  the  senses.  If  all  of  the  complex 
ideas  of  our  knowledge  are  traceable  at  the  last 
analysis  to  primary  sensations,  then  the  pleasure  or 
pain  tone  of  these  sensations  will  eventually  colour 
and  determine  the  nature  of  those  particular  complex 
ideas  which  we  call  moral.  The  distinction  between 
good  and  evil  from  this  point  of  view  is  one  which  is 
based  upon  the  more  primitive  distinction  between 
pleasure  and  pain.  Locke  very  clearly  defines  his 
position  in  this  particular.  He  says:  "Things  then 
are  good  or  evil,  only  in  reference  to  pleasure  or  pain. 
That  we  call  good,  which  is  apt  to  cause  or  increase 
pleasure  or  diminish  pain  in  us;  or  else  to  procure  or 
preserve  us  the  possession  of  any  other  good  or  ab- 
sence of  any  evil.  And,  on  the  contrary,  we  name 
that  evil  which  is  apt  to  produce  or  increase  any  pain, 
or  diminish  any  pleasure  in  us,  or  else  procure  us 
any  evil,  or  deprive  us  of  any  good.  By  pleasure 
and  pain  I  must  be  understood  to  mean  of  body  or 
mind,  as  they  are  commonly  distinguished;  though 
in  truth  they  be  only  different  constitutions  of  the 
mind,  sometimes  occasioned  by  disorder  in  the  body, 
sometimes  by  thoughts  of  the  mind. 

"Pleasure  and  pain  and  that  which  causes  them, 
good  and  evil,  are  the  hinges  on  which  our  passions 
turn.     And  if  we  reflect  on  ourselves,  and  observe 


INFLUENCES  OF   ENLIGHTENMENT      255 

how  these,  under  various  considerations,  operate  in 
us;  what  modifications  or  tempers  of  mind,  what  in- 
ternal sensations  (if  I  may  so  call  them)  they  pro- 
duce in  us,  we  may  thence  form  to  ourselves  the  ideas 
of  our  passions."  ^ 

Further,  Locke  recognises  as  the  ideal  of  good  the 
quantity  rather  than  the  quality  of  our  pleasures. 
He  says:  "Happiness,  then,  in  its  full  extent,  is  the 
utmost  pleasure  we  are  capable  of,  and  misery  the 
utmost  pain;  and  the  lowest  degree  of  what  can  be 
called  happiness  is  so  much  ease  from  all  pain,  and 
so  much  present  pleasure  as  without  which  any  one 
cannot  be  content.  .  .  .  Further,  though  what  is  apt 
to  produce  any  degree  of  pleasure  be  in  itself  good, 
and  what  is  apt  to  produce  any  degree  of  pain  be 
evil;  yet  it  often  happens  that  we  do  not  call  it  so 
when  it  comes  in  competition  with  a  greater  of  its 
sort;  because,  when  they  come  in  competition,  the 
degrees  also  of  pleasure  and  pain  have  justly  a  pref- 
erence. So  that  if  we  will  rightly  estimate  what  we 
call  good  and  evil,  we  shall  find  it  lies  much  in  com- 
parison; for  the  cause  of  every  less  degree  of  pain, 
as  well  as  every  greater  degree  of  pleasure,  has  the 
nature  of  good,  and  vice  versa."  ^ 

Moreover,  in  Locke's  account  of  the  will  as  the  ^ 
source  of  the  moral  as  well  as  of  all  other  activity,  he 
substantially  eliminates  those  higher  considerations, 
as  we  are  wont  to  designate  them,  from  the  forces, 
which  are  capable  of  exerting  any  influence  upon  us 
in  the  face  of  moral  issues.  In  this  respect  Locke 
states  his  position  very  clearly:  "To  return  then  to 
the  inquiry,  What  is  it  which  determines  the  will 
in  regard  to  our  actions  ^    And  that,  upon  second 

'  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XX,  §  2,  3. 
^  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XXI,  §  43. 


256  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

thoughts,  I  am  apt  to  imagine  is  not,  as  is  generally 
supposed,  the  greater  good  in  view;  but  some  (and 
for  the  most  part  most  pressing)  uneasiness  a  man 
is  at  present  under.  This  is  that  which  successively 
determines  the  will,  and  sets  us  upon  those  actions 
we  perform.  This  uneasiness  we  may  call,  as  it  is, 
desire;  which  is  an  uneasiness  of  the  mind  for  want 
of  some  absent  good.  AU  pain  of  the  body,  of  what 
sort  soever,  and  disquiet  of  mind  is  uneasiness; 
and  with  this  is  always  joined  desire,  equal  to  the 
pain  or  uneasiness  felt;  and  is  scarce  distinguish- 
able from  it."  ^ 

Now,  inasmuch  as  the  pleasures  of  the  mind,  or  its 
uneasiness  and  disquietude,  must  be,  according  to 
Locke's  fundamental  principles  of  interpreting  the 
complex  ideas  of  thought,  merely  modes  of  the  pri- 
mary sensations  whence  they  originally  arise,  this 
pleasure-pain  basis  of  Locke's  ethical  theory  is  of 
such  a  comprehensive  nature  as  to  explain  fully,  from 
his  point  of  view,  the  complete  range  of  our  moral 
principles  and  sentiment. 

However,  this  position  is  not  maintained  con- 
sistently by  Locke.  He  endeavours  to  connect  it, 
quite  impossibly,  with  the  idea  of  a  body  of  ethical 
principles  which  are  demonstrable  according  to  the 
method  of  mathematics.  Locke  always  insisted  this 
could  be  done,  but  never  succeeded  in  doing  it.  His 
friend  Molyneux,  in  one  of  his  letters,  urges  him  to 
apply  himself  to  this  undertaking:  "One  thing  I 
must  needs  insist  on  to  you,  which  is  that  you  would 
think  of  obliging  the  world  with  a  Treatise  on  Morals, 
drawn  up  according  to  the  hints  you  frequently  give 
in  your  Essay  of  their  being  demonstrable  according 
to   mathematical   method.     This   is   most   certainly 

1  Essay,  Book  II,  chap.  XXI,  §  31. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     257 

true;  but  then  the  task  must  be  undertaken  only 
by  so  clear  and  distinct  a  thinker  as  you  are,  and 
there  is  nothing  I  should  more  ardently  wish  for 
than  to  see  it."  * 

Locke,  however,  never  acceded  to  the  desire  of 
his  friend,  but  contented  himself  with  the  vari- 
ous hints  which  the  Essay  contains.  It  is  per- 
haps well  that  Locke  did  not  adventure  upon  this 
difficult  undertaking,  peculiarly  difficult  for  him,  be- 
cause of  the  presuppositions  of  his  theory  of  knowl- 
edge. There  is  an  inevitable  dilemma  which  would 
have  confronted  him  upon  the  very  threshold  of  his 
task: — If  there  is  an  essential  and  unalterable  dis- 
tinction between  right  and  wrong,  so  that  from  cer- 
tain fundamental  concepts  it  is  possible  to  deduce 
rigorously  a  self-consistent  system  of  inviolable  moral 
principles,  then  the  sensational  basis  of  Locke's  the- 
ory of  knowledge  is  wholly  inadequate  to  account 
for  it;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  possible  to  re- 
duce all  of  our  complex  ideas,  including  the  moral, 
to  the  elementary  experiences  of  a  sensory  nature, 
then  the  effort  to  discover  mathematically  demon- 
strable principles  of  morality  would  be  wholly  futile. 

In  relation  to  his  idea  of  the  possibility  of  a  moral-  \ 
ity  capable  of  demonstration,  Locke  is  obviously  in- 
consistent, although  it  is  an  inconsistency  which  his 
unconscious  appreciation  of  the  constructive  powers 
of  the  mind  compels  him  to  embody  in  his  discussion, 
despite  the  demands  of  a  rigorous  logic.  This  is  seen 
in  the  following  passage:  "The  idea  of  a  Supreme 
Being,  infinite  in  power,  goodness  and  wisdom,  whose 
workmanship  we  are,  and  on  whom  we  depend;  and 
the  idea  of  ourselves,  as  understanding,  rational  crea- 
tures, being  such  as  are  clear  in  us,  would,  I  suppose, 

>  Molyneux  to  Locke,  August,  1692. 


258  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

if  duly  considered  and  pursued,  afford  such  founda- 
tions of  our  duty  and  rules  of  action  as  might  place 
morality  amongst  the  sciences  capable  of  demonstra- 
tion: wherein  I  doubt  not  from  self-evident  proposi- 
tions, by  necessary  consequences,  as  incontestable  as 
those  in  mathematics,  the  measures  of  right  and  wrong 
might  be  made  out,  to  any  one  that  will  apply  himself 
with  the  same  indifFerency  and  attention  to  the  one  as 
he  does  to  the  other  of  these  sciences."  ^  The  ideas 
of  God  and  of  self,  as  thus  conceived,  cannot  be  con- 
sistently allowed  as  the  foundation  of  demonstrable 
morality,  if  the  original  presuppositions  of  Locke  are 
to  be  maintained  seriously.^ 

Locke,  moreover,  regards  our  moral  life  as  con- 
trolled by  the  commands  of  a  law  which  is  imposed 
upon  us  by  a  law-giver.  That  law  is  threefold:  the 
divine  law,  the  civil  law  and  the  law  of  opinion  or 
reputation.  Our  ideas  of  personal  pleasure  and  pain 
must  therefore  give  place  to  the  higher  dictates  of  law, 
the  divine  law  being  "the  true  touchstone  of  moral 
rectitude,"  as  Locke  characterises  it.^ 

To  this  divine  law  is  added  the  sanction  of  divine 
rewards  and  punishments  as  an  incentive  to  action. 
There  is  here  a  kind  of  theological  utilitarianism, 
similar  to  that  of  Paley,  though  not  so  shamelessly 
pronounced. 

The  mingled  elements  of  Locke's  moral  philos- 
ophy are  distinctly  separated  by  most  of  his  followers. 
His  utilitarianism  resting  upon  the  basis  of  a  sen- 
sationalistic    psychology    of   pleasure    and    pain  is 


>  Essay,  Book  IV,  chap.  Ill,  §  i8. 

^  See  above  earlier  comments  upon  Locke's  idea  of  self  and  of  God, 

P-  51- 

^  Essay,  Book   II,  chap.  XXVIII,  §  8.     Added   to  the  text  in  the 
second  edition. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     259 

adopted;  his  idea  of  a  body  of  moral  principles  ma- 
thematically demonstrable  is  ignored;  and  his  theo- 
logical account  of  our  supreme  moral  incentives  is 
rejected.  Whether  it  be  possible  to  harmonise  the 
various  phases  of  his  ethical  system  or  not,  it  at  least 
must  be  conceded  by  the  most  valiant  champion  of 
Locke  that  the  utilitarian  aspect  of  his  theory  of 
morals  is  the  one  which  profoundly  affected  the  va- 
rious currents  of  thought  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

Locke's  ideas  are  rendered  consistent  by  Hume. 
He  sees,  as  Locke  did  not  see,  the  inevitable  conse- 
quences of  his  original  position  from  which  he  at- 
tempts to  develop  a  consistent  body  of  knowledge. 
Hume's  moral  philosophy  is  the  logic  of  Locke's 
psychology.  He  accepts  the  full  rigour  of  Locke's 
assumption  that  thought  has  no  originating  power, 
but  receives  the  elements  upon  which  its  activity  oper- 
ates from  the  feelings,  and  that  the  morally  good  as 
an  object  of  desire  is  a  feeling  which  must  possess  an 
essential  pleasure  tone.  He  has  no  patience  with  the 
efforts  to  justify  a  rational  evolution  of  our  moral 
ideas,  but  rigorously  "attempts  to  introduce  the  ex- 
perimental method  of  reasoning  into  moral  subjects," 
as  the  sub-title  of  the  second  part  of  his  Treatise  of 
Human  Nature  runs.  He  holds  that  there  are  two 
fundamental  principles  of  interpretation  in  reference 
to  our  moral  life:  (i)  That  reason  alone  can  never 
be  a  motive  to  any  action  of  the  will;  (2)  that  it  can 
never  oppose  passion  in  the  direction  of  the  will.^ 

He  declares  that  "a  passion  is  an  original  existence, 
or,  if  you  will,  modification  of  existence,  and  contains 
not  any  representative  quality  which  renders  it  a  copy 
of  any  other  existence  or  modification.     When  I  am 

*  A   Treatise  oj  Human  Nature,  Green  and  Grose  edition,  vol.  II, 
P-  193- 


260  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

angry,  I  am  actually  possest  with  the  passion,  and  in 
that  emotion  have  no  more  a  reference  to  any  other 
object  than  when  I  am  thirsty  or  sick,  or  more  than 
five  foot  high  'Tis  impossible,  therefore,  that  this 
passion  can  be  oppos'd  by,  or  be  contradictory  to, 
truth  and  reason;  since  this  contradiction  consists  in 
the  disagreement  of  ideas,  consider'd  as  copies,  with 
those  objects,  which  they  represent. 

"What  may  at  first  occur,  on  this  head,  is,  that  as 
nothing  can  be  contrary  to  truth  or  reason,  except 
what  has  a  reference  to  it,  and  as  the  judgments  of  our 
understanding  only  have  this  reference,  it  must  follow 
that  passions  can  be  contrary  to  reason  only  so  far  as 
they  are  accompany  d  with  some  judgment  or  opinion. 
According  to  this  principle,  which  is  so  obvious  and 
natural,  'tis  only  in  two  senses  that  any  affection  can 
be  call'd  unreasonable.  First,  when  a  passion,  such 
as  hope  or  fear,  grief  or  joy,  despair  or  security,  is 
founded  on  the  supposition  of  the  existence  of  objects, 
which  really  do  not  exist.  Secondly,  when  in  exerting 
any  passion  in  action,  we  chuse  means  insufficient  for 
the  design'd  end,  and  deceive  ourselves  in  our  judg- 
ments of  causes  and  effects."  ^ 

In  this  play  of  the  passions,  therefore,  moral  dis- 
tinctions cannot  be  derived  from  the  reason,  but  from 
our  moral  sense.  And  the  moral  sense  is  very  defi- 
nitely defined  by  Hume.  He  says:  "Virtue  is  dis- 
tinguished by  the  pleasure,  and  vice  by  the  pain  that 
any  action,  sentiment  or  character  gives  us  by  the 
mere  view  and  contemplation.  This  decision  is  very 
commodious,  because  it  reduces  us  to  this  simple 
question.  Why  any  action  or  sentiment  upon  the 
general  view  or  survey^  gives  a  certain  satisfaction  or 
uneasiness^  in  order  to  show  the  origin  of  its  moral 

*  A  Treatise  oj  Human  Nature,  vol.  II,  p.  195. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     261 

rectitude  or  depravity,  without  looking  for  any  in- 
comprehensible relations,  and  qualities,  which  never 
did  exist  in  nature,  nor  even  in  our  imagination,  by 
any  clear  and  distinct  conception/*  ^ 

The  virtue  which  Hume  defines  in  terms  of  pleasure 
is  not  confined  solely  to  those  interests  in  life  which 
are  exclusively  selfish.  There  is  a  genuine  pleasure, 
which  is  not  a  disguised  form  of  selfishness,  in  the 
pleasure  of  others,  and  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  and 
often  pain  at  their  distress.  Thus,  not  only  self- 
interest,  but  also  sympathy  Hume  regards  as  one  of 
the  springs  of  our  action.  The  progress  of  utili- 
tarianism in  its  historical  development  has  been  from 
an  egoistic  to  an  altruistic  interpretation  of  the  utility 
of  conduct — from  the  happiness  of  the  individual  to 
the  consideration  of  "greatest  good  of  the  greatest 
number."  The  idea  o{  sympathy  with  Hume  accounts 
for  the  transition  from  the  self-regarding  virtues  to 
those  which  arise  in  the  thought  and  in  the  service  of 
others.  Sympathy  is  the  art  of  projecting  ourselves 
into  the  condition  or  estate  of  another.  It  is  the  prod- 
uct of  the  imagination  which  holds  up  an  idea  of 
another's  joy  or  sorrow,  pain  or  pleasure,  until  it 
seems  to  be  our  own  and  takes  on  all  the  emotional 
colouring  of  an  original  impression  actually  experi- 
enced by  us.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  Hume  defines 
sympathy  as  a  process  of  "  converting  an  idea  into 
an  impression." 

He  says:  "Sympathy  being  nothing  but  a  lively 
idea  converted  into  an  impression,  'tis  evident  that, 
in  considering  the  future  possible  or  probable  condi- 
tion of  any  person,  we  may  enter  into  it  with  so  vivid 
a  conception  as  to  make  it  our  own  concern;  and  by 
that  means  be  sensible  of  pains  and  pleasures  which 

'  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  vol.  II,  p.  251. 


262  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

neither  belong  to  ourselves,  nor  at  the  present  instant 
have  any  real  existence."  ^ 

The  social  postulates  of  Hume,  namely,  that  the  in- 
terests of  the  individual  are  both  directly  and  indi- 
rectly identified  with  the  welfare  of  society,  and,  also, 
that  sympathy  is  a  natural  instinct  of  man  as  a  mem- 
ber of  society,  certainly  go  beyond  the  premisses  in 
which  he  would  trace  all  knowledge  to  original  im- 
pressions received  through  the  channels  of  the  senses, 
and  the  corresponding  ideas  which  are  the  memory 
images  of  them.  His  contribution,  however,  to  the 
utilitarian  ethics  has  been  an  exceedingly  significant 
one,  in  establishing  sympathy  as  an  elemental  motive 
in  our  moral  life  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  a  form 
of  mere  selfishness  in  disguise.  True  sympathy, 
while  a  pleasure  or  pain  to  the  individual,  is,  never- 
theless, disinterested.  With  him  interest  and  sympa- 
thy account  for  all  obligation  both  civil  and  moral. 
He  recognises  no  other  law  of  obligation  than  a 
general  sense  of  common  interest.  He  has  no  concep- 
tion of  right  for  right's  sake;  and  the  idea  of  oughtness 
with  him  is  that  of  civil  or  social  authority  which  the 
individual  is  bound  to  respect  if  he  would  escape 
censure  or  punishment,  but  the  idea  of  oughtness  as 
an  inner  compulsion  is  quite  foreign  to  his  treatment 
of  the  subject.  Indeed,  he  explicitly  states  that  "no 
action  can  be  virtuous  or  morally  good  unless  there 
be  in  human  nature  some  motive  to  produce  it,  dis' 
tinct  from  the  sense  of  its  morality."  ^ 

Hume's  idea  of  sympathy  was  developed  at  length 
by  his  friend  and  countryman,  Adam  Smith  (1723- 
90),  in  his  Theory  of  the  Moral  Sentiments.  He  sug- 
gests that,  while  through  sympathy  one  projects  him- 

^  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  vol.  II,  p.  170. 
^  A  Treatise  0}  Human  Nature,  vol.  II,  p.  253. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     263 

self  into  the  station  and  circumstance  of  others  with 
a  fellow-feeling  of  their  joys  and  sorrows  as  the  case 
may  be,  there  is  also  the  possibility  of  projecting 
one's  self  into  another's  point  of  view  as  well,  and  from 
that  point  of  view  of  looking  in  an  external  fashion, 
as  it  were,  upon  our  moral  motives  and  purpose. 
This  power  of  externalising  the  self  in  judging  of 
one's  own  conduct  Adam  Smith  regards  as  the  pecu- 
liar function  of  conscience.  For  in  the  workings  of 
the  conscience  one  divides  himself  into  two  persons : 
the  one  is  actor  and  the  other  spectator  in  the  moral 
life.  A  man  may  thus  assume  the  role  of  an  impar- 
tial critic  of  his  own  conduct.  "This  is  the  only 
looking-glass  by  which  we  can  in  some  measure  with 
the  eyes  of  other  people  scrutinise  the  propriety  of  our 
own  behaviour."  '  This  disinterested  spectator  of 
the  motives  and  purposes  of  our  moral  life,  Adam 
Smith  refers  to  always  as  "the  man  within  the  breast." 
While  an  inner  judge,  his  judgment  is,  nevertheless, 
based  upon  an  external  point  of  view,  and  this  enables 
us  to  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us.  And  yet  the  inner 
spectator  is  not  merely  the  interpreter  of  public  opin- 
ion and  a  representative  of  what  other  men  may  think. 
Because  of  his  more  intimate  knowledge  of  the  inner 
play  of  motive  and  desire,  his  judgment  is  superior 
to  that  of  the  passing  judgment  of  "  the  man  without" ; 
for  there  is  a  finality  about  the  decisions  of  "the  man 
within  the  breast."  He  combines  the  inner  knowl- 
edge with  the  external  and  disinterested  point  of  view, 
which  is  essentially  the  stand-point  of  reason. 

One  of  the  problems  which  confronts  the  utilitarian 
philosophy  of  our  moral  life  is  to  explain  the  total  ab- 
sence of  any  suggestion  of  utility  about  certain  moral 
sentiments  and  conduct.    According  to  the  theory  of 

'  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  I,  Part  III,  chap.  I. 


264  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Locke  and  of  Hume  ideas,  however  complex,  should 
show,  through  a  proper  process  of  analysis,  their  ulti- 
mate nature  as  revealed  in  the  elements  out  of  which 
they  are  combined.  If  utility  is  at  the  basis  of  all  our 
moral  judgments  and  sentiments,  then  every  moral 
concept,  however  complex,  should  disclose  its  under- 
lying utility  when  subjected  to  a  sufficiently  rigorous 
investigation.  Hume  draws  attention  to  the  fact  that 
the  association  of  ideas  is  so  exceedingly  subtle  at 
times,  and  so  indefinitely  complicated  by  the  mingling 
of  artificial  and  conventional  notions  that  the  original 
utility  is  hopelessly  obscured.  David  Hartley,  how- 
ever, takes  up  this  problem  more  systematically,  and 
endeavours  to  show  in  detail  how  the  association  of 
ideas  is  the  universal  solvent  of  all  our  concepts,  how- 
ever complex  they  may  be.  He  declares  that  all  of 
our  moral  ideas  are  reducible  in  this  way  to  the  ele- 
mentary pains  and  pleasures  of  sensation,  and  he 
contributes  to  the  doctrine  of  association  the  signifi- 
cant suggestion,  as  we  have  already  seen,  that  the 
character  of  the  original  elements  is  lost  sight  of  when 
associated  together  in  certain  highly  complex  ideas, 
in  much  the  same  way  as  the  properties  of  chemical 
elements  are  transmuted  and  blended  in  their  various 
compounds.  Despite  Hartley's  theological  interpre- 
tation of  the  ground  and  goal  of  moral  progress,  his 
physiological  explanation  of  our  mental  states  indi- 
cates a  materialistic  conception  of  our  moral  as  well 
as  intellectual  life.  His  position  in  the  development 
of  the  ethical  thought  of  his  age  is  an  exceedingly 
important  one,  because  his  discussion  of  the  asso- 
ciation of  ideas  was  the  first  systematic  attempt  of 
its  kind;  and  his  pioneer  studies  in  this  field  mark 
the  beginnings  of  the  philosophy  of  associationism 
which  has  proved  such  a  conspicuous  and  significant 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     265 

factor  in  history  of  the  utilitarian  doctrines.  The 
icieas  of  Hartley  were  developed  at  length  by  James 
Mill  in  his  Analysis  of  the  Human  Mindy  and  most 
skilfully  and  subtly  treated  in  the  masterly  discus- 
sion of  John  Stuart  Mill  in  his  Utilitarianism. 

The  ethic  of  selfishness  was  also  developed  and  em- 
phasised by  certain  exponents  of  a  purely  sensation- 
alistic  philosophy  during  this  period — notably  in  the 
writings  of  Bernard  de  Mandeville  (1670-1722),  who 
was  of  French  extraction,  was  born  in  Holland  and 
settled  later  as  a  physician  in  London.  In  his  ethical 
work,  The  Fable  of  the  Bees,  or  Private  Vices  Publick 
Benefits,  the  title  indicates  his  point  of  view.  The 
ceaseless  activity  of  a  colony  of  bees  is  depicted  as 
an  appropriate  allegory  of  a  community  of  human  be- 
ings; the  selfish  instincts,  appetite  and  passion,  dis- 
content, deceit,  striving  and  competing,  each  seeking 
his  own,  and  asserting  his  desire  and  will  in  disregard 
of  the  interests  or  claims  of  others — all  this,  neverthe- 
less, works  out  the  weal  of  the  whole  and  satisfies  the 
common  needs.  The  ministration  to  the  luxurious 
vices  of  a  people  gives  occupation  and  employment 
to  a  vast  army  of  artisans  and  labourers.  The  self- 
indulgence  of  the  rich  is  the  bread  of  the  poor.  If 
all  persons  were  virtuous,  all  considerate  and  all  con- 
tent, ambition  would  fail,  effort  would  cease  and  the 
stagnation  of  society  would  prevail.  Such  is  Mande- 
ville's  paradoxical  and  whimsical  satire  on  virtue. 
It  provoked  the  criticism  and  scorn  of  Berkeley  in 
his  second  dialogue  of  the  Alciphron,  wherein  the 
ideas  of  Mandeville  are  defended  by  one  of  the  inter- 
locutors, Lysicles.  Lysicles  expounds  the  doctrine 
of  Mandeville  as  follows:  "I  love  to  speak  frankly 
what  I  think.  Know  then  that  private  interest  is 
the  first  and  principal  consideration  with  philosophers 


266  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

of  our  sect.  Now  of  all  interests  pleasure  is  that 
which  hath  the  strongest  charms,  and  no  pleasures 
like  those  which  are  heightened  and  enlivened  by 
licence.  Herein  consists  the  peculiar  excellenc}  of 
our  principles,  that  they  show  people  how  to  serve 
their  country  by  diverting  themselves,  causing  the 
two  streams  of  public  spirit  and  self-love  to  unite 
and  run  in  the  same  channel.  I  have  told  you  al- 
ready that  I  admit  a  nation  might  subsist  by  the  rules 
of  virtue.  But  give  me  leave  to  say,  it  will  barely 
subsist,  in  a  dull  joyless  insipid  state;  whereas  the 
sprightly  excesses  of  vice  inspire  men  with  joy.  And 
where  particulars  rejoice,  the  public,  which  is  made 
up  of  particulars,  must  do  so  too;  that  is,  the  public 
must  be  happy.  This  I  take  to  be  an  irrefragable 
argument.  But  to  give  you  its  full  force  and  make 
it  as  plain  as  possible,  I  will  trace  things  from  their 
original.  Happiness  is  the  end  to  which  created 
beings  naturally  tend;  but  we  find  that  all  animals, 
whether  men  or  brutes,  do  naturally  and  principally 
pursue  real  pleasure  of  sense;  which  is,  therefore,  to 
be  thought  their  supreme  good,  their  true  end  and 
happiness.  It  is  for  this  men  live;  and  whoever 
understands  life  must  allow  that  man  to  enjoy  the 
top  and  flower  of  it  who  hath  a  quick  sense  of  pleasure, 
and  withal  spirit,  skill  and  fortune  sufficient  to  gratify 
every  appetite  and  every  taste.  Niggards  and  fools 
will  envy  or  traduce  such  a  one  because  they  cannot 
equal  him.  Hence  all  that  sober  trifling  in  dispar- 
agement of  what  every  one  would  be  master  of  if 
he  could — a  full  freedom  and  unlimited  scope  of 
pleasure."  ^ 

Berkeley,  through  the  mouth  of  Euphranor,  very 
pointedly  replies  to  a  question  of  Lysicles,  which  he 

*  Berkeley's  Works,  Fraser,  vol.  II,  p.  89/. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     267 

asks  In  the  same  vein  as  in  the  paragraph  just  quoted, 
namely,  whether  sense  is  not  as  natural  to  man  as  to 
the  brutes:  "  It  is,  but  with  this  difference:  it  maketh 
the  whole  of  a  brute,  but  is  the  lowest  part  or  faculty 
of  a  human  soul.  The  nature  of  anything  is  pecu- 
liarly that  which  doth  distinguish  it  from  other  things, 
not  what  it  hath  in  common  with  them."  ^ 

Again,  the  materialistic  development  of  the  sen- 
sationalistic  philosophy  which  occurred  in  France 
showed  also  an  extreme  expression  of  the  ethic  of 
self-interest,  and  it  may  be  appropriately  associated 
in  our  minds  with  the  grossly  conceived  and  baldly 
expressed  doctrines  of  Mandeville.  I  refer  to  the 
ethical  views  of  Lamettrie.  He  draws  a  distinction 
between  d'&bauche,  that  kind  of  pleasure  which  is 
injurious  to  society,  and  volupte,  that  pleasure  which 
involves  no  harm  to  others.  In  his  Uart  de  jouir 
he  represents  the  indulgence  of  appetite  and  passion 
as  a  fine  art,  and  certainly  forms  a  sufficient  ground, 
despite  Lange's  spirited  defense  of  him,  for  the  re- 
mark of  Hettner  that  he  was  a  "licentious  profligate, 
who  sees  in  materialism  only  the  justification  of  his 
own  debauchery."  ^ 

It  must  not  be  inferred,  however,  that  all  of  the 
writers  of  the  French  school  of  materialism  sub-  i 
scribed  to  a  low  code  of  morals,  either  theoretically  or 
practically.  There  was  another  influence  at  work  in 
France  which  afi^ected  many  of  the  writers  of  this 
period,  and  gave  to  their  ethical  doctrines  a  dis- 
tinctly higher  tone  and  standard.  This  ethical 
influence,  which  was  strongly  marked  not  only  in 
France,  but  also  in  Germany  among  the  philosoph-  . 
ical  writers  of  this  period,  emanated  from  England,   | 

*  Berkeley's  Works,  Fraser,  vol.  II,  p.  93. 

*  Hettner,  Litteraturgeschichte  des  achtzehnten  Jahrhunderts,  II,  p.  388. 


268  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

and  had  its  beginnings  in  the  doctrines  of  Anthony 
Ashley  Cooper,  the  third  Earl  of  Shaftesbury  (167 1- 
1713).  Shaftesbury's  education  was  conducted  under 
the  direction  of  Locke,  and  he  was  early  impressed 
and  influenced  by  his  master's  philosophical  inter- 
ests and  tastes,  although  he  never  shared  his  point  of 
view.  He  develops  a  theory  of  ethics  which  is  in  no 
sense  the  outcome  of  the  teachings  of  Locke's  Essay. 
He  does  not  seek  to  analyse  our  ethical  concepts 
after  the  manner  of  Locke,  but  accepts  them  as  given 
in  consciousness  and  as  possessing  an  essential  and 
elementary  significance  which  the  power  of  analysis 
is  capable  of  discovering.  Shaftesbury's  writings 
were  collected  under  the  general  title  of  Characteris- 
tics of  Men,  Manners,  Opinions  and  Times.  His 
especial  ethical  treatise  is  his  Inquiry  Concerning 
Virtue  and  Merit,  in  which  he  attacks  most  vigor- 
ously the  egoistic  morality  of  Hobbes,  and  insists 
that  the  true  happiness  of  the  individual  consists 
in  the  proper  co-ordination  of  his  egoistic  and  altru- 
istic impulses.  The  latter  also  are  quite  as  primi- 
tive and  natural  as  the  former.  Moreover,  there  is  a 
moral  sense  in  man  which  reports  an  action  or  desire 
as  good  or  bad.  This  moral  sense  is  akin  to  the 
aesthetical  sense.  As  beauty  discloses  itself  imme- 
diately to  our  admiring  taste,  so  also  a  moral  action 
attracts  or  repels  us,  and  commands  our  approval 
or  disapproval  in  a  similar  manner.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  go  beyond  the  action  or  disposition  for  a 
higher  sanction.  Whatever  its  consequences  may  be, 
or  whatever  the  elements  which  enter  into  its  com- 
position, the  good  act  or  good  character  is  pleasing 
in  itself,  the  evil  act  is  displeasing.  Vice  is  repul- 
sive, as  an  unwholesome  sight  or  a  nauseous  taste  or 
smell  is  repulsive.     Morality,  therefore,  is  a  matter 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     269 

of  taste.  There  is,  moreover,  no  code  of  taste,  no 
stereotyped  principles,  no  formal  law.  Every  man 
is  a  law  unto  himself,  or  rather  upon  every  one  there 
rests  the  supreme  obligation  to  develop  his  inner 
nature  to  the  fullest  possible  extent.  This  presents 
an  ethic  of  perfectionism  or  self-realisation. 

While  there  is  no  body  of  principles,  there  is  one 
general  concept  which  should  be  the  guide  of  every 
man's  effort  and  the  standard  of  character  and  of 
conduct.  That  is  the  idea  of  harmony.  Man  must 
so  develop  that  all  his  powers  will  be  harmoniously 
co-ordinated;  that  the  love  of  self  and  the  love  of 
others  will  be  harmoniously  adjusted;  that  he  will 
be  in  harmony  with  nature,  of  which  he  is  a  part, 
properly  subjecting  the  lower  desires  and  disposi- 
tions to  the  rule  of  the  higher;  and  that  he  will 
adapt  himself  harmoniously  to  the  needs  and  wel- 
fare of  the  society  of  which  he  is  a  member.  Thus 
the  conduct  of  life  becomes  a  work  of  art,  and  he 
who  is  adequately  perfecting  his  own  nature  and 
realising  the  full  measure  of  his  potential  powers  is 
indeed  a  virtuoso,  as  Shaftesbury  styles  him,  in  that 
architectural  venture  of  constructing  character  in  true 
line  and  proper  proportion. 

Berkeley  criticises  the  one-sidedness  of  Shaftes- 
bury's theory  of  the  virtuosoship  of  the  moral  life 
in  the  third  dialogue  of  his  Alciphroriy  on  the  ground 
that  a  mere  recognition  of  goodness  as  beautiful  is 
not  sufficient  to  make  men  good,  and  that  all  natures 
are  not  sufficiently  tempered  to  follow  the  lead  of 
their  native  tastes  and  inclinations. 

In  this  dialogue  Berkeley  gives  an  excellent  and 
fair  statement  of  the  Shaftesbury  view  of  the  moral 
life,  which  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  Alciphron:  "To 
go  to  the  bottom  of  things,  to  analyse  virtue  into  its 


270  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

first  principles,  and  fix  a  scheme  of  duty  on  its  true 
basis,  you  must  understand  that  there  is  an  Idea  of 
Beauty  natural  to  the  mind  of  man.  This  all  men 
desire,  this  they  are  pleased  and  delighted  with  for 
its  own  sake,  purely  from  an  instinct  of  nature.  A 
man  needs  no  arguments  to  make  him  discern  and 
approve  what  is  beautiful;  it  strikes  at  first  sight  and 
attracts  without  a  reason.  And  as  this  beauty  is 
found  in  the  shape  and  form  of  corporeal  things;  so 
also  is  there  analogous  to  it  a  beauty  of  another  kind 
— an  order,  a  symmetry  and  comeliness,  in  the  moral 
world.  And  as  the  eye  perceiveth  the  one,  so  the 
mind  doth,  by  a  certain  interior  sense,  perceive  the 
other;  which  sense,  talent  or  faculty  is  ever  quickest 
and  purest  in  the  noblest  minds.  Thus,  as  by  sight 
I  discern  the  beauty  of  a  plant  or  an  animal,  even 
so  the  mind  apprehends  the  moral  excellence,  the 
beauty  and  decorum  of  justice  and  temperance.  And 
as  we  readily  pronounce  a  dress  becoming,  or  an 
attitude  graceful,  we  can,  with  the  same  free  untu- 
tored judgment,  at  once  declare  whether  this  or  that 
conduct  or  action  be  comely  and  beautiful.  To 
relish  this  kind  of  beauty,  there  must  be  a  delicate 
and  fine  taste;  but  where  there  is  this  natural  taste, 
nothing  further  is  wanting,  either  as  a  principle  to 
convince,  or  as  a  motive  to  induce  men  to  the  love 
of  virtue.  And  more  or  less  there  is  of  this  taste  or 
sense  in  every  creature  that  hath  reason.'*  ^ 

In  the  course  of  this  dialogue  Berkeley  criticises 
the  position  of  Shaftesbury  because  it  seemed  to  him 
that  it  made  morality  independent  of  religion,  and 
also  that  it  deprived  man  of  those  strong  motives 
to  upright  conduct,  namely,  the  fear  of  punishment 
and   the  expectation  of  reward.     Shaftesbury  had 

'  Berkeley's  Works,  vol.  II,  p.  125. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     271 

already  met  this  objection  in  his  own  discussion  of 
the  subject,  wherein  he  most  emphatically  declares 
that  "a  true  love  of  God  for  His  own  sake  should 
diminish  the  over-solicitous  regard  to  private  good 
expected  from  Him."  ^ 

There  were  two  ideas  peculiarly  characteristic  of 
Shaftesbury's  ethic — that  to  be  virtuous  there  must 
be  a  love  of  virtue,  and  that  the  man  of  good  taste 
cannot  go  far  wrong — ^which  exerted  a  profound  in- 
fluence upon  a  large  following,  both  in  his  day  and 
in  the  generations  after  him.  All  who  were  repelled 
by  the  calculating  morality  of  the  utilitarians,  or,  on 
the  other  hand,  by  the  stern  rigour  of  the  moral  law 
of  Kant,  found  in  his  doctrines  a  convenient  and  sat- 
isfying expression  of  their  ethical  need.  Not  only 
in  England  but  also  on  the  Continent,  the  influence 
of  Shaftesbury  was  widely  extended.  LeClerc  and 
Leibniz  were  deeply  impressed  with  the  moral  teach- 
ings of  the  Characteristics.  Shaftesbury's  doctrine 
that  the  supreme  duty  of  man  consists  in  perfecting 
his  own  powers  in  every  possible  way,  found  an 
intimate  affinity  with  Leibniz's  theory  of  the  self- 
developing  function  of  the  monad.  In  1745  Diderot 
reproduced  the  Inquiry  Concerning  Virtue  under  the 
title,  Essai  sur  le  merite  et  la  vertu.  In  1769  a 
French  translation  of  Shaftesbury's  works  was  pub- 
lished in  Geneva.  And  between  1776  and  1779 
there  appeared  in  Germany  a  complete  translation 
of  the  Characteristics.  Lessing,  Mendelssohn  and 
Herder  fell  under  the  charm  of  this  high-minded 
philosophy  of  life.  And  later  his  ideal  of  virtue  is 
represented  in  Schiller's  Schbne  Seele,  one  who  acts 
nobly  because  he  himself  is  noble.  Hettner  says  of 
Shaftesbury  that  "all  the  moral  forces  of  this  period  are 

*  Characteristics,  vol.  II,  p.  58  /. 


272  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

traceable  to  his  writings,  and,  indeed,  from  him  it  is 
possible  to  gain  not  only  the  truth  but  at  the  same 
time  the  beauty  of  philosophy."  * 

Such  then  are  the  ethical  influences  of  the  En- 
lightenment— utilitarianism  appears  both  in  its  altru- 
istic and  also  in  its  egoistic  phases;  and  parallel  to 
its  course  of  development,  there  appears  also  this 
philosophy  of  the  "moral  sense"  which  establishes 
its  cardinal  doctrine  in  the  beauty  of  virtue.  Utili- 
tarianism is  at  times  modified  by  th^enthusiastic 
morality  of  Shaftesbury,  and  again  is  brought  into 
actual  conflict  with  it. 

In  addition  to  the  moral  forces  of  the  Enlight- 
enment there  is  also  a  significant  religious  ten- 
dency with  marked  characteristic  features.  The 
belief  of  this  age  was  predominantly  deistical.  The 
deist  acknowledges  the  being  of  God,  but  regards 
him  as  transcendent,  that  is,  above  his  creatures 
and  wholly  unconcerned  as  regards  their  inter- 
ests and  activities,  leaving  them  completely  free 
to  order  the  conduct  of  their  own  lives.  In  the 
eighteenth  century  the  deist  opposed  the  dogmatism 
of  the  theologians  and  the  authority  of  the  ecclesi- 
astical system.  Revelation  was  regarded  either  as 
incredible  or  as  superfluous.  While  there  were  cer- 
tain writers  who  were  willing  to  admit  the  possibility 
of  revelation,  nevertheless,  they  were  insistent  upon 
the  necessity  of  submitting  revelation  to  the  supreme 
test  of  the  reason,  and  of  discarding  any  alleged  truth 
of  revelation  which  could  not  be  thus  reasonably  de- 
fended. The  deist  believed,  moreover,  in  the  possi- 
bility of  a  natural  religion,  evidenced  by  experience 
and  grounded  in  the  incontrovertible  implications 
which  reason  is  able  to   read  in  the  phenomena  of 

'  Hettner,  Litter aturgeschichle  des  achtzehnten  Jahrhunderts,  I,  205  /. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     273 

nature  and  the  events  of  life.  It  was  urged  also  that 
Christianity,  in  the  simpHcity  of  its  primitive  teach- 
ings, particularly  in  the  life  and  words  of  Christ,  con- 
forms most  exactly  to  and  expresses  most  adequately 
the  truths  of  natural  religion.  Through  the  growth 
of  dogma  and  the  development  of  ecclesiastical  power 
the  truths  of  nature  which  revealed  religion  voices 
in  the  Bible  have  become  distorted  and  obscured. 
The  central  idea  of  the  deistical  movement  is  the 
self-sufficiency  of  man.  The  supreme  emphasis  is 
laid  upon  this  idea  that  man  is  capable  of  evolving 
the  truths  of  religion  out  of  his  own  experience,  and 
that  human  wisdom  and  power  are  abundantly  equal 
to  the  tasks  of  life  and  the  problems  of  conduct, 
needing  no  divine  guidance,  and  above  all  no  divine 
intervention.  Not  only  is  morality  considered  to  be 
the  essence  of  religion,  but  in  many  quarters  during 
this  age  morality  is  regarded  also  as  a  natural  sub- 
stitute for  religion,  and  enthusiasm  for  the  beauty 
of  the  noble  life  takes  the  place  of  religious  fervour 
and  devotion. 

Locke  marks  the  beginnings  of  the  deistical  doc- 
trines of  the  Enlightenment.  In  his  Letters  on  Toler- 
ation he  enters  a  vigorous  plea  for  religious  tolera- 
tion, and  thus  sets  the  key-note  for  the  spirit  of  the 
age,  which  declared  its  independence,  alike  of  theo- 
logical dogma  and  of  ecclesiastical  authority.  While 
Locke  was  still  a  student  at  Oxford  his  free  disposi- 
tion and  inquiring  mind  protested  against  the  lack  of 
open-mindedness,  the  indifference  to  truth  and  the 
sense  of  security  in  traditional  belief  which  charac- 
terised the  Oxford  scholarship  of  his  day.  Indeed, 
in  an  early  essay  written  soon  after  the  completion  of 
his  university  career,  in  the  year  1666,  entitled  An 
Essay  on  Toleration^  he  forcibly  expresses  the  con- 


274  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

victions  which  many  years  later  became  embodied 
in  the  famous  Letters  on  Toleration.  Moreover, 
Locke's  philosophical  point  of  view  is  such  that  it 
accords  naturally  with  a  deistical  conception  of  re- 
ligion. His  idea  of  God  is  that  of  a  being  who  exists 
outside  of  his  works  and  operates  upon  them  in  an 
external  manner.  As  the  activities  of  the  reason 
fashion  the  elements  of  knowledge  by  working  upon 
them  in  a  manner  external  to  these  elements  them- 
selves, so  also,  in  a  similar  way,  the  architect  of  the 
universe  constructs  the  great  world  machine.^  For 
Locke  himself  says  that  "even  the  most  advanced 
notion  we  have  of  God  is  but  attributing  to  Him  the 
same  simple  ideas  which  we  have  got  from  reflection 
on  what  we  find  in  ourselves."  ^ 

Not  only  in  the  general  implications  of  his  philo- 
sophical point  of  view,  but  more  specifically  in  his 
religious  treatise,  The  Reasonableness  of  Christianity^ 
published  in  1695,  Locke  gives  expression  to  the 
doctrines  of  deism.  As  the  title  of  this  work  indi- 
cates, the  author  attempts  to  show  that  the  religion 
which  was  taught  and  illustrated  by  the  founder  of 
Christianity  corresponds  completely  with  the  essen- 
tial features  of  natural  religion.  He  draws  the  dis- 
tinction between  that  which  is  contrary  to  reason 
and  that  which  is  above  reason,  insisting  that  reve- 
lation may  contain  a  certain  body  of  truth  which 
the  reason  unaided  could  never  have  discovered,  but 
which  is  nevertheless  not  in  any  sense  necessarily  op- 
posed to  reason.  After  Locke,  John  Toland  (1670- 
1722)  published  a  volume  entitled  Christianity  not 
Mysterious,  wherein  he  wipes  out  Locke's  distinc- 
tion between  that  which  is  contrary  to  reason  and 

'  See  above,  p.  54. 

^  Essay,  Book  III,  chap.  VI,  §  11. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     275 

that  which  is  above  reason.  He  insists  that  we  must 
allow  as  true  only  that  which  reason  certifies.  The 
seat  of  authority,  therefore,  is  not  in  revelation  at  all, 
but  in  the  reason  which  is  the  supreme  judge  as  to 
the  credibility  of  the  content  of  revelation.  He 
maintains  that  miracles  are  merely  extraordinary 
manifestations  of  natural  law  under  peculiar  circum- 
stances, and  that  the  Bible  must  be  rationalised  in 
order  to  free  it  from  the  accretions  of  superstition 
and  tradition,  and  to  discover  its  true  message  to 
mankind,  namely,  its  consummate  moral  ideal. 

Anthony  Collins  (1676-1729),  in  his  work,  the  Dis- 
course of  Free-thinking,  contributes  to  the  literature 
of  deism  by  insisting  upon  the  right  of  free  untram- 
melled opinion  in  thought,  and  particularly  in  refer- 
ence to  a  man's  religious  convictions.  He  declares, 
moreover,  that  the  result  of  a  full  and  free  inquiry 
must  inevitably  lead  an  unprejudiced  mind  to  deny 
the  possibility  of  any  supernatural  element  whatso- 
ever in  religion.  Collins  exposed  himself  to  a  bitter 
attack  from  Dean  Swift,  who  by  his  keen  satire  gave 
a  sharp  edge  to  his  searching  criticism  of  deism. 

In  the  line  of  the  deistical  writers  there  followed 
Matthew  Tindal  (1657-1733)  with  his  work,  Chris- 
tianity as  Old  as  the  Creation.  In  his  argument  he 
takes  the  position  that  the  truth  of  Christianity  is 
contained  in  natural  religion,  and  the  truth  of  nat- 
ural religion  expresses  the  universal  needs  and  de- 
sires of  mankind,  which  can  experience  no  restriction 
of  time  or  place.  This  is  the  truth  which  has  been 
from  the  beginning.  God  must  deal  equally  with 
all  men.  There  can  be  no  chosen  people  to  whom 
is  given  a  special  revelation.  The  sole  revelation  of 
God  to  man  is  through  the  channels  of  reason.  The 
deistic  succession  was  carried  on  in  the  writings  of 


276  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

Thomas  Chubb  (1679-1747),  a  man  of  the  people, 
who  gave  homely  expression  and  popular  form  to 
the  prevailing  ideas  of  natural  religion;  associated 
with  him  also  are  the  names  of  his  contemporaries, 
Thomas  Morgan  (d.  1751)  and  Lord  Bolingbroke 
(1672-1751). 

Through  all  the  argument  of  the  deistical  writers 
there  is  the  assumption  that  natural  religion  is  jus- 
tifiable in  reason,  and  as  such  can  be  regarded  as 
scientifically  grounded.  Hume,  however,  examines 
this  claim  of  natural  religion,  subjecting  it  to  his 
searching  analysis,  wherein  he  reaches  the  conclu- 
sion that  no  such  basis  in  reason  can  be  established. 
In  his  Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Religion^  and  in 
his  essay  on  the  Natural  History  of  Religion,  Hume 
takes  the  point  of  view  that  while  reason  in  a  gen- 
eral and  indefinite  manner  testifies  as  to  the  being  of 
God,  man  cannot  "by  reason  find  out  the  Almighty 
unto  perfection,"  nor  come  to  any  satisfactory  knowl- 
edge of  His  nature.  His  attributes  and  purposes.  In 
the  traditional  argument  based  upon  design  he  finds 
evidence  of  a  finite  being  or  beings,  rather  than  an 
infinite  God,  and  in  the  evil  of  the  world  and  the 
disharmony  of  the  universe,  doubt  is  thrown  upon  the 
goodness  or  the  wisdom  and  power  of  God.  In  the 
introduction  to  the  Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Re- 
ligion Hume  says  in  point:  "What  truth  so  obvious, 
so  certain  as  the  Being  of  a  God,  which  the  most 
ignorant  ages  have  acknowledged,  for  which  the  most 
refined  geniuses  have  ambitiously  striven  to  produce 
new  proofs  and  arguments .?  What  truth  so  impor- 
tant as  this,  which  is  the  ground  of  all  our  hopes,  the 
surest  foundation  of  morality,  the  firmest  support  of 
society  and  the  only  principle  which  ought  never  to 
be  a  moment  absent  from  our  thoughts  and  medita- 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     277 

tions  ?  But  in  treating  of  this  obvious  and  important 
truth,  what  obscure  questions  occur,  concerning  the 
Nature  of  that  divine  being;  his  attributes,  his 
decrees,  his  plan  of  providence!  These  have  been 
always  subjected  to  the  disputations  of  men:  Con- 
cerning these,  human  reason  has  not  reached  any 
certain  determination:  But  these  topics  are  so  inter- 
esting that  we  cannot  restrain  our  restless  enquiry 
with  regard  to  them;  though  nothing  but  doubt,  un- 
certainty and  contradiction  have,  as  yet,  been  the 
result  of  our  most  accurate  researches."  ^ 

Through  the  course  of  these  dialogues  Hume  fol- 
lows the  argument  for  and  against  the  possibility  of 
an  adequate  natural  religion.  In  his  summing  up 
of  the  case,  unfortunately,  he  does  not  clearly  indicate 
his  own  judicial  opinion  concerning  the  issue  of  the 
discussion.  He,  however,  may  be  considered  fairly 
in  sympathy  with  the  closing  paragraph  of  the  last 
dialogue,  where  Philo,  who  has  taken  throughout 
the  position  of  a  reverent  sceptic  as  regards  the  ra- 
tional justification  of  natural  religion,  concludes  the 
controversy  with  the  following  significant  passage: 
"  If  the  whole  of  Natural  Theology,  as  some  people 
seem  to  maintain,  resolves  itself  into  one  simple, 
though  somewhat  ambiguous,  at  least  undefined, 
proposition.  That  the  cause  or  causes  of  order  in  the 
universe  probably  bear  some  remote  analogy  to  human 
intelligence:  If  this  proposition  be  not  capable  of 
extension,  variation  or  more  particular  explication: 
If  it  affords  no  inference  that  affects  human  life,  or 
can  be  the  source  of  any  action  or  forbearance:  And 
if  the  analogy,  imperfect  as  it  is,  can  be  carried  no 
farther  than  to  the  human  intelligence;    and  cannot 

^  Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Religion,  Green  and  Grose  edition, 
P-  378. 


278  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

be  transferred,  with  any  appearance  of  probability, 
to  the  quahties  of  the  mind :  If  this  really  be  the 
case,  what  can  the  most  inquisitive,  contemplative 
and  religious  man  do  more  than  give  a  plain,  phil- 
osophical assent  to  the  proposition,  as  often  as  it 
occurs,  and  believe  that  the  arguments,  on  which 
it  is  established,  exceed  the  objections  which  lie 
against  it  ?  Some  astonishment,  indeed,  will  nat- 
urally arise  from  the  greatness  of  the  object:  Some 
melancholy  from  its  obscurity:  Some  contempt  of 
human  reason  that  it  can  give  no  solution  more 
satisfactory  with  regard  to  so  extraordinary  and 
magnificent  a  question.  But  believe  me,  Cleanthes, 
the  most  natural  sentiment,  which  a  well-disposed 
mind  will  feel  on  this  occasion,  is  a  longing  desire 
and  expectation  that  heaven  would  be  pleased  to 
dissipate,  at  least  alleviate,  this  profound  ignorance 
by  affording  some  particular  revelation  to  mankind, 
and  making  discoveries  of  the  nature,  attributes  and 
operations  of  the  divine  object  of  our  faith.  A  per- 
son, seasoned  with  a  just  sense  of  the  imperfections 
of  natural  reason,  will  fly  to  revealed  truth  with  the 
greatest  avidity:  While  the  haughty  Dogmatist,  per- 
suaded that  he  can  erect  a  complete  system  of  The- 
ology by  the  mere  help  of  philosophy,  disdains  any 
farther  aid,  and  rejects  this  adventitious  instructor. 
To  be  a  philosophical  Sceptic  is,  in  a  man  of  letters, 
I  the  first  and  most  essential  step  toward  being  a  sound 
believing  Christian."  * 

If  Hume  would  not  fully  indorse  the  appeal  of 
Philo  from  the  insecurity  of  reason  to  the  certitude 
of  revelation,  he  does  at  least  allow  in  this  passage 
the  possibility  of  revelation.  Later,  however,  in 
Hume's  chapter  on  Miracles  in  the  Enquiry  Concern- 
'  Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Religion,  p.  467. 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     279 

tng  Human  Understanding,  he  denies  the  possibility 
of  any  revelation  whatsoever  on  the  ground  of  the 
assumptions  concerning  miracles  which  it  involves. 

The  negative  assertions  of  Hume  carried  more 
weight,  however,  than  his  speculative  queries.  His 
argument  against  natural  religion  tended  to  under- 
mine the  very  foundations  of  deism,  and  to  accelerate 
the  tendency  of  deistical  opinion  to  drift  into  atheism. 
This  was  particularly  true  of  the  development  of 
religious  thought  in  France  during  this  period,  where 
the  writings  of  Hume  exerted  no  inconsiderable  in- 
fluence. A  hatred  of  the  priests,  a  protest  against 
ecclesiastical  authority  and  a  sensationalistic  psy- 
cJfToIogy  all  combined  in  France  to  produce  a  philos- 
ophy of  atheism.  This  was  resisted  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  traditional  deism  by  Voltaire  and  by 
Rousseau,  Diderot  for  a  while  strove  against  the 
inner  drift  of  his  own  thought,  to  which,  however, 
he  finally  yielded;  and  he  also  was  carried  into  the 
abysmal  depths  of  Holbach's  materialistic  and  athe- 
istic Systeme  de  la  nature. 

With  a  practical  suggestion  as  to  the  proper  frame 
of  mind  to  cultivate  in  reference  to  so  serious  and  so 
difficult  a  question,  Rousseau  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  the  Savoyard  Vicar  the  sage  advice :  "  Keep  thy 
soul  in  such  a  condition  that  thy  wish  is  always  that 
God  exists;  then  wilt  thou  never  doubt  it."  Rous- 
seau always  declared  that  he  was  the  only  man  of 
his  age  who  believed  in  God. 

In  Germany  the  deistical  influences  were  wide- 
reaching.  Reimarus  represents  the  critical  point  of 
view  in  reference  to  the  truth  of  revelation  both  in 
his  Schutzschrift,  and  in  the  Wolfenhuttler  Fragmente, 
which  Lessing  edited.  With  Lessing,  however,  and 
with  Herder  there  was  a  recognition  of  a  more  inti- 


280  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

mate  relation  between  man  and  God  which  was 
revealed  to  their  deeper  poetic  insight.  This  rela- 
tion brought  the  far-ofF  God  of  deism,  speculatively 
discerned,  to  his  place  in  the  centre  of  the  world's 
history  and  of  the  life  of  the  individual.  It  was 
essentially  the  conception  of  Leibniz,  who  regarded 
God  as  the  supreme  Monad,  in  whom  each  separate 
monad  of  the  universe  lived  and  moved  and  had  its 
being.  Lessing  and  Herder,  as  we  have  seen,  also 
leaned  somewhat  toward  a  pantheistic  interpreta- 
tion of  God's  relation  to  the  world — a  tendency,  no 
doubt,  due  in  a  large  measure  to  Spinoza. 

The  movement  of  thought  which  has  been  the 
subject  of  our  inquiry  has  also  its  practical  outcome 
in  the  political  philosophy  of  this  period.  Locke 
again  marks  the  beginnings  of  the  political  tendencies 
of  the  Enlightenment.  In  his  Treatise  of  Govern- 
ment, published  in  1690,  the  same  year  as  the  Essay, 
he  defends  the  Revolution  of  1688,  and  endeavours 
to  "  establish  William's  throne  and  make  good 
his  title  in  the  consent  of  the  people."  The  first 
treatise  is  a  scathing  criticism  of  the  royalist  Sir 
R.  Filmer,  who  in  his  Patriarcha  had  attempted 
to  prove  the  claims  of  absolute  monarchy  by  de- 
riving the  power  of  kings  from  the  native  authority 
exercised  by  Adam,  and  transmitted  through  in- 
heritance to  his  royal  successors.  He  was  hardly  a 
worthy  foeman  for  Locke,  and  his  contention  was  one 
in  which  that  age  was  fast  losing  both  its  interest  and 
its  belief.  The  second  treatise  contains  the  really 
significant  material.  In  it  Locke  explains  the  na- 
ture of  civil  society  by  a  reference  to  its  primitive 
origin,  wherein  a  law  of  nature  prevailed  which  rec- 
ognised the  common  needs  and  obligations  of  men, 
as  also  their  equal  rights.     This  state  of  nature  was 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     281 

one  of  peace,  unlike  the  original  state  of  warfare 
which  the  theory  of  Hobbes  presupposed.  It  was, 
however,  unsatisfactory,  because  indefinite  and  in- 
effectual, particularly  with  the  increasing  complexity 
of  expanding  social  relations.  The  state  of  nature 
lacks  a  clear  definition  of  the  laws  of  nature,  and  an 
impartial  application  and  an  effective  enforcement  of 
them.  It  is  a  state  in  which  "a  random  right  re- 
dresses a  random  wrong."  Consequently,  by  com- 
mon consent,  men  entered  into  a  compact  whereby  a 
governing  body  was  constituted  which  was  to  bear 
rule  according  to  the  will  and  the  sufferance  of  the 
majority.  This  government  may  be  a  monarchy  in 
form,  but  it  must  be  democratic  in  principle,  and  the 
supreme  standard  by  which  rulers  stand  or  fall  is 
essentially  utilitarian — the  good  of  the  people.  There- 
fore, to  secure  this  end,  it  is  the  inalienable  right  of 
the  people  to  make  "an  appeal  to  Heaven,"  to  depose 
magistrates  and  reconstruct  governments. 

Locke's  theory  of  government  is  in  accord  with  his 
theory  of  mind,  at  least  as  regards  the  ground  motive 
of  each,  which  is  essentially  the  mechanical  rather 
than  the  organic  point  of  view.  As  all  the  separate 
elements  of  knowledge  are  brought  together,  and  var- 
iously modified  and  compounded  by  the  activity  of  the 
mind  working  upon  them  from  without,  so  also  the 
separate  and  distinct  units  of  society  are  held  to- 
gether by  external  and  artificial  bonds,  in  which 
there  is  no  naturally  cohesive  power,  no  organic 
development,   and   as  a   result  no   social  organism. 

The  influence  of  Locke's  political  ideas  reaches  far 
into  the  eighteenth  century.  The  revolutionary  ele- 
ment which  is  contained  in  his  doctrines,  but  not 
conspicuously  exploited,  was  brought  more  into  the 
foreground  in  Priestley's  Treatise  on  Civil  Govern- 


282  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

merit,  and  Price's  Observations  on  Civil  History. 
Both  of  these  works  show  marks  of  the  influence  of 
Lockian  principles  of  government.  In  France  also 
the  same  influence  is  evident  in  Montesquieu's  Esprit 
des  lois,  and  in  Rousseau's  Contrat  Social. 

While  Locke  derives  government  from  a  state  of  na- 
ture, Rousseau  would  have  government  re-establish  a 
new  state  of  nature,  not,  indeed,  the  veritable  etat  de  la 
nature,  but  at  least  a  new  social  order.  To  this  end  it 
would  be  necessary  to  destroy  all  the  existing  conven- 
tions and  institutions  which  interfere  with  the  native 
rights,  and  which  destroy  the  natural  spirit  of  man.  In 
Locke's  theory,  the  equal  rights  of  man  are  restricted 
by  a  common  surrender  of  privilege  to  the  governing 
body  for  the  good  of  the  whole;  in  Rousseau,  how- 
ever, it  is  the  essential  purpose  of  government  to  con- 
serve and  guarantee  these  rights  to  all  equally  and 
in  perpetuity. 

The  French  Revolutionists  were  not  slow  to  draw 
the  conclusions  to  which  the  doctrines  of  Rousseau 
formed  the  appropriate  premisses.  Locke  would 
hardly  have  recognised,  much  less  have  accepted, 
the  extreme  and  exaggerated  form  which  his  doc- 
trines assumed  in  the  course  of  a  century's  de- 
velopment. While  defending  the  English  Revolu- 
tion of  1688,  the  French  Revolution  of  1789  could 
scarcely  have  claimed  him  as  an  advocate.  It  would 
be  manifestly  unfair  to  ascribe  to  Locke  the  extreme 
views  entertained  by  the  various  writers  who  were, 
nevertheless,  deeply  influenced  by  him.  It  is  a  long 
way  which  one  travels  in  the  course  of  a  century 
from  the  empiricism  of  Locke  to  the  materialism  of 
Holbach,  from  the  reverent  deistical  convictions  of 
the  Essay  to  the  unmitigated  atheism  of  the  Systeme 
de  la  nature.     So  also  the  influence  which  Locke's 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     283 

political  philosophy  exerted  upon  that  distant  age 
ran  far  beyond  the  most  remote  implications  of  his 
fundamental  principles.  The  American  Revolution 
more  adequately  embodies  these  principles,  and  Alex- 
ander Hamilton  may  be  cited  as  one  who  profited  by 
the  political  philosophy  of  Locke  without  perverting 
it.  The  contract  theory,  which  grounds  all  social 
relations  ultimately  upon  the  conscience  and  consent 
of  the  individual,  was  not  able  to  maintain  its  cause 
through  this  century  wholly  free  from  challenge. 
Hume  was  not  deceived  by  the  plausible  arguments 
which  were  urged  in  its  defence,  and  which  were 
accepted  as  a  popular  gospel.  He  draws  attention 
to  the  logical  inconsistency  in  an  idea  which  essen- 
tially bases  allegiance  upon  a  promise.  Edmund 
Burke  also  subjects  the  idea  of  a  Contrat  Social  to  a 
running  fire  of  criticism,  and  suggests  In  its  stead 
the  idea  of  the  organic  growth  of  all  government. 

The  contract  theory,  however,  "lived  long  after  the 
brains  were  out,"  as  Leslie  Stephen  characterises  it.^ 

It  lived  both  because  it  was  convenient  to  believe 
it,  and  because  it  was  closely  associated  in  the  popu- 
lar thought  of  the  day  with  certain  convictions  con- 
cerning the  rights  and  privileges  of  man,  which,  in 
spite  of  their  exaggerated  expression  and  application, 
nevertheless  contained  essential  elements  of  the  truth. 

The  practical  Influences  of  this  century  which  we 
have  hastily  surveyed,  moral,  religious  and  political, 
can  be  more  adequately  estimated  in  the  light  of 
Kant's  criticism  of  them.  Practically  as  well  as 
theoretically  we  look  to  him  for  the  last  word  upon 
the  problems  of  the  Enlightenment.  The  Kantian 
ethic,  on  the  one  hand,  opposes  utilitarianism,  and 
on  the  other  introduces  a  stern  rigourism  into  the 

^  History  oj  English  Thought,  vol.  II,  p.  i8o. 


284  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

philosophy  of  conduct  which  the  enthusiastic  moral- 
ity of  Shaftesbury  wholly  lacks. 

The  moral  centre  of  gravity,  he  insists,  lies  not 
in  the  consequences  of  an  act,  but  in  the  disposition 
of  the  actor.  From  a  moral  point  of  view  the  only 
good  is  the  good-will.  It  is  character,  prirriarily, 
and  not  conduct  which  is  the  object  of  our  moral 
judgment.  The  utilitarian  view  of  conduct,  whether 
it  be  interpreted  in  terms  of  selfish  pleasure,  or  of 
altruistic  consideration  of  the  highest  order,  must 
necessarily  express  the  moral  command  in  terms  of 
an  hypothetical  imperative:  Do  this  if  you  would 
be  happy.  Do  this  if  you  would  give  happiness  to 
others.  Give  happiness  to  others  if  you  would  be 
happy  yourself.  Excellent  maxims,  all  of  them,  but 
merely  maxims.  They  do  not  express  the  funda- 
mental law  of  morality.  They  do  not  go  to  the  heart 
of  the  matter.  For  the  true  ethical  concept  con- 
fronts us  always  with  a  categorical  imperative.  Do 
the  right,  with  reverence  for  the  law  which  commands 
it  and  in  scorn  of  consequence.  Kant's  question, 
which  he  puts  in  his  metaphysic  of  morals  as  well  as 
in  his  philosophy  of  the  pure  reason,  is  whether  it  is 
possible  to  attain  any  truth  possessing  an  a  priori 
validity.  This  he  discovers  in  the  moral  law,  which 
bears  the  same  relation  to  the  will  that  the  categories 
of  the  understanding  do  to  the  intellect.  By  the 
moral  law  our  concrete  experiences,  whatever  may 
be  the  variable  element  they  furnish,  are  organised 
and  directed  according  to  a  constant  standard.  This 
moral  law  Kant  expresses  as  follows:  "Act  as  if  the 
maxim  from  which  you  act  were  to  become,  through 
your  will,  the  universal  law  of  nature."  The  maxims 
must  have,  of  course,  empirical  content.  They  may, 
and  in  many  cases  are,  the  result  of  utilitarian  con- 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     285 

siderations.  But  the  law  of  reason  demands  that, 
whatever  the  considerations  may  be  which  experience 
suggests,  nevertheless  they  must  be  capable  of  be- 
coming universalised  in  this  sense.  Demands  which 
spring  from  the  senses,  from  inclination,  appetite,  or 
passion  must  thus  be  brought  into  harmony  with  the 
coldly  judicial  decisions  of  the  will.  The  moral  law, 
because  it  is  the  supreme  expression  of  one's  reason, 
is,  therefore,  self-imposed.  Man's  will  is  autono- 
mous. The  command  is  from  within,  and  therefore 
man  is  free,  because  the  kind  of  determination  to 
which  his  activities  are  subjected  is  a  self-determina- 
tion. 

Kant  maintains,  moreover,  that  there  is  an  abso- 
lute distinction  between  conduct  which  is  performed 
from  a  sense  of  duty  and  conduct  which  arises  from 
inclination,  no  matter  how  wisely  and  how  benefi- 
cently that  inclination  may  be  directed;  that  is,  mo- 
rality is  essentially  a  question  of  one's  attitude.  In 
the  conduct  of  a  man's  life,  does  the  sense  of  obli- 
gation count  as  a  determining  factor,  or  is  it  rather 
the  pressure  of  desire  or  possibly  the  suggestion  of  a 
shrewd  calculating  wisdom  .?  This  is  the  issue  which 
Kant  draws,  and  to  which  he  gives  clear  answer  and 
uncompromising  argument.  While  early  in  his  phil- 
osophical thinking  he  experienced  the  fascination  of 
Shaftesbury  and  his  doctrine  of  the  beauty  of  the 
moral  life,  nevertheless  he  broke  with  him  completely 
in  the  Dissertation  of  1770,  and  characterised  his 
philosophy  as  a  form  of  Epicureanism.  He  regarded 
it  as  at  best  an  attempt  to  formulate  the  various  ex- 
periences of  life  so  as  to  indicate  the  path  in  which 
noble  natures  walk.  It  is  morality  for  a  special  class. 
There  is  in  Shaftesbury's  moral  ideal  no  law  of  com- 
mon obligation  for  the  noble  and  ignoble  alike;    no 


286  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

universal  command  of  duty;  and  no  superior  court 
of  last  appeal  in  universal  reason. 

Kant's  ethics  are  naturally  exposed  to  the  criticism 
that  he  gives  us  a  formal  law  of  obligation  only,  with- 
out presenting  at  the  same  time  a  practical  criterion 
as  to  what  actual  lines  of  conduct  in  any  given  case 
such  a  law  prescribes.  The  categorical  imperative 
commands  me  to  do  what  is  right,  and  I  may  very 
properly  reply,  But  what  precisely  is  the  nature  of 
the  right  which  I  must  do  ?  In  the  concrete  case, 
what  differentiates  exactly  the  right  from  the  wrong .? 
Here  Kant  maintains  that  the  thought  of  our  own 
happiness,  or  even  of  the  happiness  of  others,  must 
be  still  subordinated  to  a  feeling  of  respect  for  a  law 
of  obligation;  and  that  this  law,  moreover,  admits  of 
a  more  concrete  expression  in  the  following  practical 
principle  of  conduct:  "So  act  as  to  treat  humanity, 
whether  in  thine  own  person  or  in  that  of  any  other, 
in  every  case,  as  an  end,  never  as  a  means  only."  * 

In  this  principle  there  is  a  possibility  of  subordinat- 
ing the  lower  to  the  higher  claims  of  our  nature  on 
the  one  hand;  and  on  the  other,  of  harmonising  the 
egoistic  and  altruistic  motives  of  conduct.  Thus  a 
synthesis  of  the  conflicting  elements  in  the  moral  in- 
fluences of  this  century  is  rendered  possible. 

The  religious  tendencies  of  this  period  also  meet 
in  Kant,  and  meet  in  him  in  the  same  sense  as  the 
moral  tendencies  found  in  his  doctrines  a  natural 
corrective  and  supplementation.  The  general  drift 
of  deism  is  toward  a  separation  of  God  from  his 
works;  toward  a  substitution  of  morality  for  religion; 
and  in  its  extreme  expression  toward  some  form  of 
materialistic  philosophy.  Kant  does  not  rest  his  con- 
viction as  to  the  being  of  God  upon  the  observation 

'  Kritik  der  praktischen  Vernunjt,  i.  I,  3. 


INFLUENCES   OF   ENLIGHTENMENT      287 

of  his  works.  He  does  not  rise  in  his  thoughts  from 
nature  to  God.  He  finds  God  primarily  within.  In 
the  compulsion  of  the  moral  law,  inevitable,  irresist- 
ible; in  the  inner  command  which  admits  of  no  com- 
promise, and  offers  no  bribe;  in  the  high  ideal  which 
as  the  author  of  his  own  destiny  man  is  constrained 
to  set  for  himself;  in  the  moral  order  which  such  an 
ideal  necessitates,  and  in  the  progress  which  it  prom- 
ises and  guarantees;  in  all  this  there  is  the  profound 
intimation  of  God  as  the  necessary  postulate  of 
our  moral  life.  While  many  of  the  deists  were  con- 
tent to  subscribe  to  a  code  of  morals  with  no  reference 
whatsoever  to  religion,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  formal 
ecclesiasticism  had  grown  strangely  indifferent  to  the 
commands  of  a  rigorous  morality,  Kant,  on  the  con- 
trary, endeavoured  to  restore  the  naturally  insepa- 
rable relations  of  religious  conviction  and  the  sense 
of  moral  obligation,  and  to  prove  that  the  moral 
consciousness  is  the  sole  ground  and  source  of 
religious  feeling.  A  man  who  is  conscious  of  the 
worth  and  dignity  of  his  own  personality,  and  of 
the  possible  nobiHty  within  which  awaits  an  actual 
realisation  in  his  outer  Hfe,  who  also  orders  his  con- 
duct upon  a  plane  above  the  dictates  of  inclination 
or  the  maxims  of  prudence,  that  man  belongs  natu- 
rally to  the  intelligible  rather  than  the  merely  sensible 
world — the  world  of  freedom;  and  so  far  forth  is  a 
citizen  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

The  argument  which  Kant  advances  for  the 
necessity  of  regarding  the  idea  of  God  as  a  postu- 
late of  our  moral  convictions  enables  us  to  appre- 
ciate the  true  significance  of  his  contribution  to 
the  religious  phase  of  philosophical  thought  in  this 
century.  I  therefore  venture  to  quote  it  somewhat 
at  length: 


288  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

"Happiness  is  the  state  of  a  rational  being  existing 
in  the  world  who  experiences  through  the  whole  of 
his  life  whatever  he  desires  and  wills.  It  therefore 
presupposes  that  nature  is  in  harmony  with  his  whole 
end,  as  well  as  with  the  essential  principles  by  which 
his  will  is  determined.  Now,  the  moral  law.  being 
a  law  of  free  beings,  commands  us  to  act  from  motives 
that  are  entirely  independent  of  nature  and  of  the 
harmony  of  nature  with  our  desires.  But  a  rational 
agent  in  the  world  is  not  the  cause  of  the  world,  and  of 
nature  itself.  There  is  no  reason,  whatever,  in  the 
case  of  a  being  who  is  a  part  of  the  world  and  is  de- 
pendent upon  it,  why  the  moral  law  should  imply  a 
necessary  connection  between  happiness  and  moraUty 
proportionate  to  happiness.  For  the  will  of  such  a 
being  is  not  the  cause  of  nature,  and  therefore  he  has 
no  power  to  bring  nature  into  complete  harmony 
with  his  principles  of  action.  At  the  same  time,  in 
the  practical  problem  of  pure  reason,  that  is,  in  the 
necessary  pursuit  of  the  highest  good,  such  a  con- 
nection is  postulated  as  necessary.  He  ought  to  seek 
to  promote  the  highest  good,  and  therefore  the  highest 
good  must  be  possible.  He  must  therefore  postulate 
the  existence  of  a  cause  of  nature  as  a  whole,  which  is 
distinct  from  nature,  and  which  is  able  to  connect 
happiness  and  morality  in  exact  harmony  with  each 
other.  Now,  this  supreme  cause  must  be  the  ground 
of  the  harmony  of  nature,  not  simply  with  a  law  of  the 
will  of  a  rational  being,  but  also  with  the  consciousness 
of  this  law  in  so  far  as  it  is  made  the  supreme  principle 
of  the  agent's  will.  That  cause  must  therefore  be  in 
harmony,  not  merely  with  the  form  of  morality,  but 
with  morality  as  willed  by  a  rational  being,  that  is, 
with  his  moral  character.  The  highest  good  is  thus 
capable  of  being  realised  in  the  world  only  if  there 


INFLUENCES  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT     289 

exists  a  supreme  cause  of  nature  whose  causality  is  in 
harmony  with  the  moral  character  of  the  agent. 
Now,  a  being  that  is  capable  of  acting  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  law  is  a  rational  being,  an  intelligence, 
and  the  causality  of  that  being,  proceeding  as  it  does 
from  the  consciousness  of  law,  is  a  will.  There  is 
therefore  implied,  in  the  idea  of  the  highest  good,  a 
being  who  is  the  supreme  cause  of  nature;  and  who 
is  the  cause  or  author  of  nature  through  his  intelli- 
gence and  will,  that  is  God.  If,  therefore,  we  are 
entitled  to  postulate  the  highest  derivative  good,  or 
the  best  world,  we  must  also  postulate  the  actual 
existence  of  the  highest  original  good,  that  is,  the 
existence  of  God.  Now,  it  is  our  duty  to  promote 
the  highest  good,  and  hence  it  is  not  only  allowable 
but  it  is  necessarily  bound  up  with  the  very  idea  of 
duty  that  we  should  presuppose  the  possibility  of  this 
highest  good.  And  as  this  possibility  can  be  estab- 
lished only  under  condition  that  God  exists,  the  pre- 
supposition of  the  highest  good  is  inseparably  con- 
nected with  duty,  or,  in  other  words,  it  is  morally 
necessary  to  hold  that  God  exists."  ^ 

Kant  would  thus  ground  religion  in  the  necessities 
of  the  moral  concept.  No  one  has  more  thoroughly 
or  more  emphatically  defended  the  inseparable  con- 
nection of  morality  and  religion  than  he.  All  of  the 
influences  of  the  deistic  movement  had  tended  to 
force  them  asunder.  Kant,  however,  seeks  to  estab- 
lish their  true  relation  upon  a  sure  foundation;  and 
in  this  attempt  he  stands  as  an  uncompromising  oppo- 
nent of  those  who  in  his  age  would  glorify  morality  at 
the  expense  of  religion,  or  who  on  the  other  hand 
would  profess  a  religion  which  had  little  or  no  con- 
cern for  morality. 

*  Kritik  der  praktischen  Vernunft,  ii,  II,  V. 


290  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

In  Kant's  philosophy  of  the  state  he  endeavours  to 
rationalise  the  doctrines  of  Rousseau  in  reference  to 
the  social  contract  and  the  rights  of  man.  It  is  true 
that  in  a  certain  sense  Kant  follows  Rousseau's  ac- 
count of  the  origin  of  government;  however,  he  claims 
that  the  social  contract  is  not  to  be  conceived  at  all 
as  an  historical  event,  but  is  merely  a  point  of  view 
from  which  to  regard  the  nature  of  social  relations 
as  determined  by  the  reason.  It  is  the  way,  the  nec- 
essary way,  in  fact,  of  adjusting  the  free-will  of  the 
individual  to  the  free  activities  of  all  who  are  asso- 
ciated with  him  in  society.  The  compact  into  which 
he  enters  is  one  compelled  by  reason,  and  not  sug- 
gested merely  by  convenience  or  the  necessities  of 
circumstance.  Every  acquired  right  is  derived  from 
the  native  right  of  freedom.  Kant  holds  that  the 
very  idea  of  freedom  itself  implies  equality.  For  no 
obligation  can  be  laid  upon  an  individual  without 
that  individual,  in  turn,  being  privileged  to  lay  a 
similar  obligation  upon  all  who  may  be  like  circum- 
stanced. The  native  right,  therefore,  of  every  indi- 
vidual to  the  free  play  of  his  activities  must  of 
itself  necessitate  its  own  limitation  so  as  to  allow 
a  similar  privilege  to  all.  In  this  sense  the  individ- 
ual is  always  regarded  from  a  universal  point  of 
view,  that  is,  wholly  irrespective  of  the  particular  ele- 
ments of  his  setting  or  the  adventitious  circumstances 
of  birth,  position,  wealth,  or  distinction.  And  this 
is  essentially  the  procedure  which  reason  follows, 
namely,  to  estimate  every  particular  instance  in  the 
light  of  its  universal  significance.  The  will,  there- 
fore, which  exercises  control  in  society,  the  volonte 
generale^  is  not  the  collective  will  of  a  number  of 
individuals;  it  is  not  the  combined  wisdom  of  the 
majority;   it  is  rather  the  will  which  represents  in  a 


INFLUENCES  OF   ENLIGHTENMENT     291 

typical  way  the  stand-point  of  reason.  The  individ- 
ual thus  universalised  is  already  conceived  as  a  mem- 
ber of  society  and  of  an  established  order  of  things. 
Here  again  the  relation  is  an  organic  one;  it  cannot 
be  artificially  created  or  mechanically  maintained. 

Kant's  most  significant  service,  however,  in  the 
development  of  political  principles  is  his  insistence 
upon  the  guiding  maxim  of  conduct  that  man  must 
always  be  regarded  as  an  end  and  never  as  a  means 
to  an  end.  In  this  dictum  the  rights  of  the  individual 
are  safeguarded  against  their  undue  limitation  in  be- 
half of  the  public  welfare;  and  the  public  welfare, 
in  turn,  is  conserved  by  assuring  the  ful  and  free  play 
of  the  activities  of  all  the  individual  members  com- 
posing the  social  organism.  From  this  point  of  view 
that  crude  and  extreme  individualism  which  exer- 
cises a  disintegrating  influence  in  national  life,  de- 
stroying its  unity  and  undermining  its  solidity,  under- 
goes a  certain  process  of  transmutation  whereby  the 
idea  of  individuality  is  enriched  and  deepened,  and 
its  universal  significance  revealed  in  its  essential  set- 
ting of  reciprocal  rights  and  duties. 

Kant's  religious,  ethical,  and  political  views  may 
be  open,  no  doubt,  to  serious  criticism.  He  is  not 
always  consistent,  nor  always  clear.  The  formal  ele- 
ments are  at  times  unduly  emphasised  at  the  expense 
of  the  material  content.  But  whatever  may  be  the 
strictures  which  we  may  be  inclined  to  place  upon 
his  philosophical  creed  in  respect  to  these  most  mo- 
mentous problems  of  life,  we  will,  nevertheless,  be 
constrained  to  confess  that  through  Kant's  words  of 
challenge  the  practical  ideals  of  the  Enlightenment 
as  well  as  its  speculative  thought  were  raised  to  a 
higher  plane,  which  to  the  philosophers  of  subsequent 
generations  has  proved  a  vantage-ground  of  wider 
prospect  and  clearer  vision. 


292  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

References. — Ernest  Albee:   A  History  of  English  Utilitarianism. 
London  and  New  York,  1902. 
^'-  S.  Alexander:  Locke.     London,  1908. 

Ch.  Bastide:   John  Locke.    Les  Theories  Politiques.     Paris,  1906. 
l^' Cairns:  Unbelief  in  the  Eighteenth  Century.    London,  1881. 

Curtis:  Outlines  of  Lockers  Ethical  Philosophy.    Leipzig,  1890. 

Graham:   English  Political  Philosophy  from  Hobbes  to  Maine. 
London,  1899. 

T.  H.  Green:  Principles  of  Political  Obligation.    Phil.  Works,  vol.  II. 
London  and  New  York,  1885-88. 
'    Hunt:  History  of  Religious  Thought  in  England.    London,  1873. 

Kent:    The  English  Radicals.     London  and  New  York,  1899. 

V.  Lechler:  Geschichte  des  Englischen  Deismus.     Stuttgart,  1841. 

F.  Pollock:   Lockers  Theory  of  the  State.     Proceedings  of  British 
Academy,  1903-04. 

F.  Pollock:  History  of  the  Science  of  Politics.    London,  1893. 

H.  Sidgwick:   History  of  Ethics.     London,  1886. 

H.  Sidgwick:   The  Development  of  European  Polity.    London,  1903. 
I    Leslie  Stephen:  History  of  English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury.    London,  1876. 

Leslie  Stephen:   The  English  Utilitarians.    London,  1900. 

Leslie  Stephen:  Essays  on  Freethinking  and  Plainspeaking.    Lon- 
don, 1874. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE  OF  PHILOSOPHICAL 

WORKS    IN   THE    AGE    OF   THE 

ENLIGHTENMENT 


294 


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INDEX 


Abstract  ideas,  59,  99. 

Adamson,  R.,  55,  84,  no,  193,  251. 

Albee,  Ernest,  292. 

d'Alembert,  126/,  136. 

Antinomies,  Kantian,  244/;  math- 
ematical, 245;  dynamical,  245. 

Alexander,  S.,  56,  292. 

Appetition,  172. 

A  priori,  221/,  224  j7i  229,  236. 

d'Argenson,  140. 

Aristotle,  169/.  n.  2. 

Arnobius,  121. 

Association  of  ideas,  114. 

Associationism,  264. 

Atheism,  19,  282. 

Aufklarung,  defined  and  described, 
3  ff.    See  Enlightenment. 

Bastide,  Ch.,  292. 

Bayle,  Pierre,  118. 

Berkeley,  g  ff;  idealism,  chapter 
III;  criticism  of  Locke,  59  ff; 
theory  of  perception,  62  jf;  idea 
of  existence,  65;  idea  of  God, 
66  //  idea  of  substance  as  spirit- 
ual, 68  /;  idea  of  causation, 
69  /;  idea  of  the  symbolic  lan- 
guage of  nature,  70  /;  idea  of 
the  laws  of  nature,  70  /;  idea  of 
substance  as  spiritual,  72/;  dis- 
tinction between  idea  and  notion, 
•jSffi  later  idealism  in  the  Siris, 
TSff;  relation  to  Kant,  81/. 

Berkeley  in  America,  83  /;  his 
criticism  of  Mandeville,  265/; 
criticism  of  Shaftesbury,  269. 

Bolingbroke,  Lord,  276. 

Bordeu,  128. 

Bourne,  Fox,  H.  R.,  55. 

Bruno,  Giordano,  170/.  n. 

Burke,  Edmund,  283. 

Burton,  J.  H.,  no,  139. 


Cabanis,  134. 

Caird,  151/.  n.  2,  160,  251. 

Cairns,  292. 

Canon  of  philosophical  criticism 

40/. 
Cassirer,  Ernst,  193. 
Categorical  imperative,  284. 
Categories  of  Kant,  236. 
Causation,  90/,  102/,  176,  183/. 
Chubb,  Thomas,  276. 
Collins,  Anthony,  41,  275. 
Condillac,  120/,  138. 
Contrat  Social,  148,  282/. 
Copernican  method  of  Kant,  239. 
Coste,  Pierre,  119. 
Cousin,  56. 

Couturat,  Louis,  165/.  n.  2,  193. 
Critical  method,  222. 
Curtis,  292. 

Darwin,  Erasmus,  10. 

Deism,  19,  254,  272/. 

Descartes,  7,  13,  166,  216. 

Dewey,  John,  193. 

Diderot,  Denis,  10,  124^,  138,  146, 

271,  279. 
Dillmann,  E.,  193. 
Ding-an-Sich,  239. 
Dissertation,  Kant's,  2igff,  285. 
Duncan,  Geo.  M.,  193. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  83. 

Empiricism,  15  /,  161,  184,  213, 
215,  217,  223,  236. 

Encyclopaedists,  10,  136,  138. 

Engel,  210. 

Enlightenment,  defined  and  de- 
scribed, 3jf;  Kant  on,  24;  in 
England,  2$ff;  in  France,  xiiff; 
in  Germany,  194  ff;  practical 
influences  of,  253. 

Entelechy,  169. 


307 


308 


INDEX 


Epistola  de  Tolerantia,  Locke,  27. 
de     L'Espinasse,     Mademoiselle, 

128. 
Evolution,  190/,  202,  208. 

Fatalism,  247. 
Ferrier,  James  F.,  84. 
Filmer,  Sir  R.,  280. 
Fischer,  Kuno,  24,  193,  252. 
Fowler,  T.,  56. 
Francke,  195. 
Fraser,  A.  C,  56,  84. 
Frederick  the  Great,  201. 

Galiani,  133. 

Germany,  Aufklarung  in,  chapter 
VIII. 

Gerardin,  Saint  Marc,  160. 

Gervinus,  G.  G.,  214. 

God,  Kantian  Idea  of,  246-249 ; 
Locke's  idea  of,  51/;  Berkeley's 
idea  of,  66/;  Locke's  idea  of  God 
as  ground  of  morality,  258. 

Goethe,  133,  203. 

Graham,  292. 

Green,  T.  H.,  56,  84,  108,  no,  160, 
292. 

Green  and  Grose,  89/.  «.,  no. 

Hamilton,  Alexander,  283. 

Hartley,  10,  112/,  264/. 

Haym,  R.,  207/,  214. 

Hegelian  movement  of  thought  in 
eighteenth  century,  8/. 

Hegel,  24,  37. 

van  Helmont,  F.  M.,  170/.  «. 

Helvetius,  10,  122,  138. 

Herder,  197,  200,  206^,  271,  280. 

Herz,  Marcus,  220. 

Hettner,  H.,  24,  135,  214,  271. 

Hobbes,  281. 

Hoffding,  160. 

Holbach,  10/,  117,  131/,  138,  279, 
282. 

Hume,  David,  relation  to  the  En- 
lightenment, 11  f;  on  Locke's 
theistic  proof,  53;  on  abstract 
ideas,  60;  his  scepticism,  chap- 
ter IV;  his  argument  a  re- 
ductio  ad  absurdum  of  Locke's 
position,  86/;  relation  to  Kant, 
88;  beginnings  of  knowledge 
in  impressions  and  ideas,  88/; 


fundamental  canon  of  criticism, 
89/;  causation,  90^;  substance, 
93^/  criticism  of  Berkeley,  95; 
doctrine  of  self,  95  ff;  scepti- 
cism as  a  transition  stage  in 
knowledge,  98;  criticism  of, 
99  jf;  function  of  imagination, 
100;  sceptical  of  his  own  po- 
sition, 102  ff;  theory  of  percep- 
tion, 104;  relation  to  Kant,  105/; 
Green's  estimate  of,  108;  Reid 
concerning,  108/;  on  Rousseau, 
139;  his  moral  philosophy,  259  /; 
on  sympathy,  261/;  on  associa- 
tion of  ideas  as  basis  of  our  moral 
concepts,  264;  on  natural  relig- 
ion, 276/;  on  miracles,  278;  Kant 
on  his  view  of  causation,  226/; 
on  Central  Social,  283. 

Hunt,  292. 

Huxley,  84,  87,  no. 

Ideas  as  archetypes,  50;  as  ectypes, 
50;  abstract  ideas,  59,  99;  Ber- 
keley's distinction  between  idea 
and  notion,  73jf;  relation  to  im- 
pressions 88/;  Kantian  Ideas  of 
Reason,  241/; 

Identity  of  indiscernibles,  171. 

Imagination  and  knowledge,  100/. 

Immanence  of  God,  21/ 

Individualism,  19/,  254. 

Intellectualism.   See  Rationalism. 

Intellectualism  of  Locke,  39/ 

Jacobi,  200. 

Johnson,  Samuel,  83. 

Judgment,  analytic,  225,  234;   the 

Kantian  types,   236;    synthetic, 

225,  234. 

Kant,  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  3; 
his  contribution  to  the  philos- 
ophy of  the  Enlightenment,  \i\ff; 
on  Wasist  Aufklarung?,  24;  re- 
lation of  Berkeley  to,  75,  81; 
relation  to  Hume,  88,  104^;  in- 
debtedness to  Rousseau,  159; 
completed  work  of  Leibniz,  188; 
on  the  Enlightenment,  194;  re- 
lation to  Martin  Knutzen,  196; 
the  preparation  for  his  critical 
philosophy,  213;  the  philosophy 


INDEX 


309 


of,  chapter  IX;  his  preparation 
for  his  task,  216;  his  mediating 
tendency,  216;  periods  of  his 
philosophical  progress,  217;  the 
various    publications    of    these 

Eeriods,  218;  his  break  with 
.eibniz,  219;  inaugural  disserta- 
tion, 219;  differs  from  Leibniz 
regarding  the  sensible  and  in- 
telligible worlds,  219;  letter  to 
Marcus  Herz,  220;  the  intellect 
in  sense-perception,  221;  philos- 
ophy as  "critical,"  222;  the 
logic  of  limits,  222;  "transcen- 
dental" logic,  222/;  the  crit- 
ical method,  222;  a  priori, 
222;  transcendental  method, 
223  /;  analytic  and  synthetic 
judgments,  225;  possibility  of 
synthetic  judgments  a  priori?, 
226;  Hume's  view  of  causation, 
226//  the  metaphysic  of  induc- 
tion, 227  /;  synthetic  character 
of  the  causal  idea,  229;  function 
of  thought  in  acquiring  knowl- 
edge, 230;  differs  from  Locke, 
230;  divisions  of  the  Critique, 
23 1 ;  space  and  time,  233  ff;  the 
truths  of  geometry,  234;  reality 
of  space  and  time,  235;  the 
categories,  236  ff;  empiricism 
and  rationalism  complementa- 
ry, 237/;  phenomena  and  nou- 
mena,  238/;  Ding-an-sich,  239; 
Copernican  method,  239;  possi- 
bility of  a  metaphysic,  240; 
Verstand  and  Vernunft,  240;  the 
Ideas  of  Reason,  241 ;  relation  to 
syllogistic  process,  241;  follows 
Leibniz's  idea  of  substance,  242; 
Idea  of  self,  243;  Idea  of  world, 
244;  antinomies,  244  ff;  Idea  of 
God,  246  /;  regulative  use  of 
the  Ideas,  246;  relation  of  Ideas 
to  materialism,  naturalism,  fatal- 
ism, 247;  Critique  0/ the  Practi- 
cal Reason,  248/;  noumenal  as- 
pect of  our  moral  nature,  248; 
postulates  of  the  practical  rea- 
son, 249/;  the  Critique  of  Judg- 
vtent,  249/;  teleology,  250;  tele- 
ology, Critique  of  Judgment,  250; 
synthesis  of  theoretical  and  prac- 


tical reason,  250;  summary,  251; 
on  practical  influences  of  the  En- 
lightenment, 283  jf. 

Kent,  292. 

King,  Lord,  55. 

Knight,  William,  no. 

Knowledge  of  reality,  44/. 

Knowledge  and  imagination,  100/. 

Knutzen,  Martin,  196. 

Lagrange,  131. 

Lamettrie,  121,  123  /,  131,  13a, 
267. 

Lange,  121,  135. 

Latta,  R.,  169/.  «.  2,  193. 

LeClerc,  118/,  271. 

Lechler,  V.,  292. 

Leibniz,  Gottfried  Wilhelm,  rela- 
tion to  the  Enlightenment,  isf! 
criticism  of  Locke,  38  /;  the 
Nouveaux  Essais,  56;  differs 
from  Kant  regarding  sensible 
and  intelligible  worlds,  119; 
his  philosophical  system,  chap- 
ter VIII;  relation  to  Locke, 
161  ff;  ideas  born  of  reason, 
163;  deduction  of  truth,  164; 
symbolic  logic,  164/;  doctrine 
of  substance,  166;  departure 
from  Descartes,  166;  substance 
as  a  force  centre,  167;  logical 
deduction  of  nature  of  sub- 
stance, 168;  self  as  substance, 
168/;  entelechy,  169;  monadol- 
ogy,  170  ff;  identity  of  indis- 
cernibles,  171;  appetition,  172; 
independence  of  monads,  172/; 
representative  function  of  the 
monads,  173;  perception,  174; 
mathematical  concept  of  func- 
tion, 175;  idea  of  causation, 
176;  pre-established  harmony, 
lyj  ff;  mind  and  body,  lii  ff; 
parallelism,  183;  efficient  and 
final  causes,  183  /;  world  of  na* 
ture  and  world  of  divine  purpose, 
184;  empiricism  and  rational- 
ism, 184/;  the  external  world, 
186;  innate  ideas,  186;  supra- 
sensible  element  in  perception, 
187;  divine  concurrence,  187; 
relation  to  Kant,  188;  individ- 
ualism of  the  monad,  188;  com- 


310 


INDEX 


bination  of  monads,  189;  idea  of 
evolution,  190;  harmony  of  uni- 
verse, 192;  synthesis  of  empirical 
and  rationalistic  elements,  192; 
influence  upon  philosophical 
thought,  193;  influence  in  Ger- 
many, 194;  relation  to  Wolff, 
198^;  Kant  on  Leibniz  and 
Descartes,  216;  relation  to  Kant, 
219;  idea  of  substance  as  used 
by  Kant,  242;  relation  to  Shaftes- 
bury, 271;  his  idea  of  God, 
280/. 

Lessing,  200^,  271,  280. 

Levy-Bruhl,  135,  160. 

Locke,  John,  the  Essay,  3jf;  be- 
ginnings of  the  Enlightenment, 
6/;  influence  of,  9;  relation  to 
Hume,  11;  relation  to  Leibniz, 
13;  relation  to  Kant,  16;  prac- 
tical results,  19/;  his  inner  and 
outer  world,  chapter  II;  origin 
of  the  essay,  26;  the  method  of, 
27;  on  sensation  and  reflection, 
29;  regards  mind  as  passive  in 
sensation,  31;  its  activity  later 
is  mechanical,  34;  idea  of  infin- 
ity, 37;  Leibniz's  criticism  of, 
38;  intellectualism  of,  39;  idea 
of  the  self,  42/;  his  outer  world, 
44;  his  idea  of  reality  of  knowl- 
edge, 44;  primary  and  secondary 
qualities  of  matter,  46;  on  sub- 
stance, 48;  proof  of  being  of  God, 
$iff;  view  of  causal  relation,  53; 
influence  of,  55;  influence  on 
Berkeley,  58/;  Berkeley's  criti- 
cism of  Locke's  distinction  be- 
tween primary  and  secondary 
qualities,  60;  relation  to  Hume, 
85  jf;  Reid's  criticism,  109;  influ- 
ence on  the  materialistic  phil- 
osophy, chapter  V;  relation  to 
Leibniz,  161  jf;  influence  in  Ger- 
many, 195;  influence  on  Kant, 
219;  how  his  theory  of  knowledge 
differs  from  that  of  Kant,  230; 
ethics  of,  254/;  his  utilitarian- 
ism, 254/,  259;  relation  to 
Hume  as  regards  system  of 
ethics,  259;  relation  to  Shaftes- 
bury, 270;  the  deism  of,  273/; 
on  government,  280/. 


Lowell,  J.  R.,  160. 
Luther,  196. 

Macdonald,  Frederika,  160. 

McCosh,  J.,  56,  84,  110. 

Mackintosh,  J.,  24. 

de  Malesherbes,  146. 

Mandeville,  265,  267. 

Materialism,  10,  247,  267,  chapter 
V. 

Mendelssohn,  Moses,  210,  211, 
271. 

Merz,  J.  T.,  193,  214. 

Metaphysics,  in  the  Enlighten- 
ment,  4,  17;  in  Locke's  philos- 
ophy, 43,  46,  54;  in  Berkeley, 
81/;  in  Hume,  105/;  in  Leib- 
niz, 166^;  according  to  Kant, 
240/. 

Mill,  James,  265. 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  84,  265. 

Mind  and  body,  181  ff. 

Molyneux,  William,  57,  256. 

Montesquieu,  282. 

Moore,  A.  W.,  56. 

Morgan,  Thomas,  276. 

Morley,  John,  119,  135,  142,  158, 
160. 

Morris,  George  S.,  252. 

Naigeon,  131. 
Naturalism,  247. 
Newton,  113. 
Nicolai,  210,  212. 

Osborn,  H.  F.,  191. 

Paley,  258. 
Parallelism,  183/. 
Parmenides,  79. 
Paulsen,  F.,  252. 
Perception,  174. 
Pfleiderer,  E.,  no. 
Pietism,  195/- 
Plato,  219. 

Platonic  idealism,  78/. 
Pollock,  Frederick,  292. 
Pope,  5,  211. 

Pre-established  harmony,  177^. 
Price,  282. 

Priestley,  Joseph,  10,  116/,  132, 
282. 


INDEX 


311 


Primary  qualities  of  matter,  46  _^, 

60/. 
Pringle-Pattison,  A.  S.,  no. 

Raison  commune,  151. 
Rationalism,  14/,  161/,  184,  213, 

215,  217,  223,  236. 
Reason,  pure,  3,  16,  81,  88,  222^; 

232;  practical,  16/,  248,  289. 
Reid,  Thomas,  56,  108. 
Reimarus,  203,  279. 
Reflection,  as  source  of  knowledge, 

30/ 
Remond,  184. 
Riehl,  A.,  24,  25. 
Rosenkranz,   124,   125,   129,   130, 

135- 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  influence 
upon  Kant,  16/;  relation  to  the 
Enlightenment,  20;  opinion  of 
Holbach,  134;  chapter  VI,  early 
materialism,  136;  reaction  from 
materialistic  tendencies,  138; 
philosophy  of  feeling,  139^;  his 
mysticism,  143  /;  man  not  a 
mere  machine,  144;  the  Dis- 
courses, 145  ff;  Contrat  Social 
14S/;  feeling  and  intellect,  150 
/;  Raison  commune,  151;  vo- 
lonte  generale,  152;  individual- 
ism, 152  ff;  Confessions,  153/; 
feeling  and  action,  154/;  prag- 
matism, 157;  influence  upon 
Kant,  158  ff;  influence  in  Ger- 
many, 195;  on  deism,  279;  Con- 
trat Social,  282;  Kant's  inter- 
pretation of  Contrat  Social,  290/. 

Royce,  Josiah,  252. 

RusseU,  Bertrand,  193. 

Sainte  Beuve,  160. 

Savoyard,  Vicar,  141/,  150,  279. 

Scepticism,  14,  chapter  IV. 

Schiller,  271. 

Schinz,  A.,  157/.  n.  1. 

Secondary  qualities  of  matter,  46 

/,  60/. 
Sensation  as  source  of  knowledge, 

29/ 
Sensationalism,  120,  138. 


Shaftesbury,  268  jf. 

Sidgwick,  H.,  292. 

Sime,  J.,  214. 

Smith,  Adam,  theory  of  morals, 

262/. 
Space,  Kant's  view  of,  233. 
Spener,  195. 
Spinoza,  13,  280. 
Stirling,  J.  H.,  252. 
Stephen,  L.,  24,  283,  292. 
Stern,  L.,  170/.  n. 
Stewart,  Dugald,  56,  84. 
Stillingfleet,  42,  50,  54. 
Streckeisen-Moultou,  160. 
Substance,  Locke's   idea  of,   48/; 

Berkeley's  idea  of,  Sgff;  Hume's 

idea  of,   g^ff;   102/;  Leibniz's 

idea  of,  166/,  237,  242. 
Swift,  Dean,  275. 
Syllogistic  process  in  the  Kantian 

Ideas  of  reason,  241. 

Tetens,  J.  N.,  212. 
Texte,  Joseph,  160. 
Thomasius,  210. 
Timaeus,  79. 

Time,  Kant's  view  of,  233. 
Tindal,  Matthew,  275. 
Toland,  J.,  274. 
Transcendence  of  God,  21. 
Transcendental  method,  223/. 
Treatises  on  government,  Locke, 
27. 

Utilitarianism,  19,  254/,  258,  265. 

Vernunft,  240. 
Verstand,  240. 
Vibrations    of    brain     molecules, 

Volonte  generale,  290. 
Voltaire,  36,  119,  132,  252,  279. 

Wallace,  W.,  252. 
Watson,  J.,  252. 
Webb,  T.  E.,  39/,  56. 
Windelband,  W.,  24. 
Wolff,  Christian,  13, 14, 194, 197^, 
218. 


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